Not just for the birds

Tag: chukar hells canyon

  • Chukar Fugue

    Chukar Fugue

    It’s this. I spent most of today’s hike weaving together phrases of future, present, and past memory fragments: stressing to keep up with the dogs through backlit bunchgrass on 45-degree slopes toward the water punctuated by dried cattle hoove divots; no concept of my identity but just a pursuit; no concept of the fact that I’m in an environment that’s not “usual”; the occasional, hysterical interruption of the sudden realization I don’t know where my wife is, or where I am, or where the dogs are, or — oh, yeah — eruptions of birds, unannounced, interwoven with the sky, lenticular wisps of clouds, glint of the barrel swinging, sun stinging my eyes on the miss, the diminishing blur of reddish tailfeathers, shadow patterns careening off puckering water, basalt outcrops, redlined heart-rate, heaving chest, butt on dirt and parched cheatgrass, a smiling dog with a matted feather stuck to his gluey gum wondering, “what now?”

    Ten minutes in on this second day of the season, after a gorgeous mistake yesterday, Peat bee-lined from the shore up a wee crotch of a draw and froze. Angus soon joined him and validated the point. Both held solid until I hoisted myself the hundred or so yards, and then they burst. It’s on the video, in slo-mo, even. I hit the first three, not even sure how many birds took off, then watched more waves of ones and twos going every direction, in the air, on the ground, in my memory. Fantasy start. We worked hard chasing them, finding new coveys, dogs going nuts, and Leslie made the shot of the day, a crosser across a ravine. She saw it land but couldn’t find it. Then Peat pointed it (it’s on the video, too). What a day.

  • Finally!

    Chukar in the house
    Chukar in the house

    Opening weekend came and went, and we’re still vibrating from it. We camped in Oxbow the night before opening day, greeted by a big sow bear as soon as we beached the boat. We waited a while, not sure if we should look for another cove, and then two cinnamon cubs appeared, and the train left the station. So we tied up, and enjoyed the stars, all night long, courtesy of Angus’s nearly constant woofing at things going bump in the night. We also learned that Oxbow (and probably most reservoirs) reduce the water level at night, because we awoke about 1:30 a.m. to our boat listing about 45-degrees. When it finally got light, Leslie and I eagerly prepared coffee fixings, only to realize we forgot a crucial part of the stove. As hardcore addicts, we fiddled about to create some heinous caffeinated beverage to dispel the certain migraine-like headaches that would have set in without our morning fix. Note to self. Remember stuff like that next time.

    It's the water, and a lot more.
    It’s the water, and a lot more.

    But what about the hunting? Opening day was tough, but we saw three coveys. The first numbered at least 40 birds. I knocked one down and Angus got it. We saw two more large coveys (20+ birds) in the next two hours, but they busted early, probably because we were pursuing them across huge scree fields and must have appeared like Brahmas in the China shop. It was awesome, though, to explore new, heavily birded terrain and see lots of birds. Especially after last year. I think I hunted four times before bagging a chukar last year.

    The next day we took the boat onto Brownlee and found a nice cove with decent access to a dirt road. Angus pointed just above the water level after being out only a few minutes. We followed the birds across a few little finger ridges near the water (cow trails on precipitous slopes), and Angus pointed again. I managed a double, but was only able to recover one bird, which is always incredibly aggravating. (Later, we returned to the area and found what I believe was that bird, which must have only been lightly wounded because it blasted up a draw right where I thought it should be; y’all know that when a chukar busts uphill the chances of finding it are slim to none and slim left town).

    Good morning, opening day.
    Good morning, opening day.

    We hiked a lot and saw amazing new terrain. Since it was really warm it made sense that the first birds we saw were so close to the water, especially since there’s no greenup yet: no food higher up, and scarce water. But we came to a watering trough near a spring, and – sure enough – there was a large covey just next to it, and I managed one of this year’s small birds, which was so small that at first I thought it was a Hungarian partridge when Angus retrieved it.

    We heard lots of calling, saw healthy-sized coveys, and are excited to head back out next weekend. I’m grateful to have a few days of rest (if you can call teaching 7th through 12th graders English “rest”) before next time.

  • Pirouetting Chukar Hills

    As we turn off of the highway and onto the dusty dirt road heading towards the chukar hills, our bird dog stands up in the back seat of the pickup and sticks his nose out of the crack in the window, snorts, and wags his stubby tail in excitement. The last time we turned up this road we were heading out for a bitter cold January hunt. Dogs have a keen sense of memory. Does he remember the turn, the smell, or something else?

    The chukar hills are always turning with the seasons. Bright red Indian paintbrush, brilliant yellow arrowleaf balsamroot, deep pink sweet pea, purple Rocky Mountain penstemon, multi-colored wild lupine, verdigris sagebrush, and spring green grasses are now flourishing after a long winter. The reward from the snow melt is habitat and food for wildlife and a new batch of chukar that soon will be hatching in these hills.

    _DSC9688

    _DSC9702

    _DSC9725

    _DSC9722

    _DSC9703

    _DSC9727

    We all wandered in different directions across the hillside covered in wildflowers blanketing the ground in a blaze of yellow and red. It was a short walk to admire the views and to collect some arrowleaf balsamroot seeds for our own wildflower garden. We eventually met up and sat down on some flat rocks in the warmth of the setting sun to quietly take a moment to reflect on the last time we hunted on these chukar hills.

    _DSC9709

    _DSC9747

    _DSC9697

    _DSC9691

    _DSC9694

    _DSC9750