Not just for the birds

Tag: chukar hunting

  • Angusing

    Angusing

    Angus

    What is it about our dogs? Or maybe I should speak for myself, and – since he can’t type – Angus. I’m just in a tribute mood, perhaps because we’re in the “holidays,” and I’m feeling grateful for lots of things.

    Angus is at the top of my list. My new job keeps me away from him during the week so I don’t get to spend the same amount of time with him that I used to. He’s 5-1/2 years old, so between halfway and a third of the way through his too-short life, with any luck. Leslie (also at the top of my list) and I don’t have kids, so Angus bears the brunt of our parental feeling. He is spoiled, for sure. But he’s darned well appreciated, too.

    I try not to regret that I didn’t hunt with him until he was three. It’s hard not to because my connection, I should say our connection, has intensified a lot in our three seasons together in the field. Being away from him during the week and only able to hunt weekends, too, has honed my appreciation of him.

    Reading a fellow bird hunter’s blog yesterday also has something to do with this. In a post titled “I Slipped His Collar,” Randy described putting his “go-to” dog down in simple, heartfelt but unsentimental words. From his post it was clear he’d been through this many times. I’ve done it once and dread the next time. And I don’t want it to get easier, and suspect it won’t.

    Glenna and Angus have increased my predisposition toward morbid thoughts, but I came to dogs late in life and am regularly felled by the ineffable and ephemeral connection I feel with them (the dogs, not the thoughts). As I write this, I’m home for the weekend and Angus is bored and playing with his toys. Serial goofiness: rubber ball, shrieking monkey (three of them, in various states of dismemberment), Nylabone, then his chin rests on my knee. He wants to get out, and so do I. It’s these rarer moments of down time together that allow me this reflection and time to wonder if he’s reflecting on anything or just thinking of his next half-cup of kibble, or of nothing at all. Maybe he feels something like comfort having me nearby for a change. I hope so. I know I’m comforted by his presence, even while dreading the end of that.

    We both need to get out and look for some birds.

  • Lousy with chukar

    Brittany spaniel chukar hunting
    Angus rehydrating

    Angus, Leslie, and I sucked it up yesterday in the crappy weather to look for birds in a spot we hadn’t explored before. It was lousy with chukar, and so was I. I shot two-thirds of a box and brought home two birds.

    Still, despite both Leslie and I being a bit under-the-weather and hiking around some pretty steep country in underwhelming weather, it was a great day. If you watch the video (see below), you’ll notice no shortage of action. (Please realize in the scenes where I’m running back and forth like a brainless buffoon my safety is indeed on.) I think because of the stiff wind, Angus seemed to have more trouble than usual pinpointing birds, and some of the birds seemed warier than usual, often busting on their own well outside of range.

    Chukar hunting near Brownlee
    Leslie in her Saturday uniform

    A couple of my recent posts discuss my confusion over chukar tactics, and today did nothing to clarify anything for me. I’m tempted to give up trying to figure out how high or low they might be in whatever conditions on whatever terrain and just do my best to think like a chukar. This worked a little today, when I speculated that in the heavy wind the birds might prefer to be on the leeward side of ridges. That’s where we found most of them. But there were notable exceptions to this, and in more than one case I called Angus away from windy areas that actually (we found out later) harbored birds.

    Hungarian Partridge
    Hungarian Partridge

    Anyway, it was nice to get that much action and see so many birds, including the interesting and beautiful Hungarian partridge. Angus made two spectacular retrieves, including one on a Hun I knocked down – I thought – cold. Angus couldn’t find it where I saw it fall, and I was sure it wouldn’t have run anywhere. But my Brittany boy wonder was hot on the trail of something, and I followed him, thinking he was tracking the covey members that busted a moment earlier. A couple hundred yards later he pointed hard, and a one-winged bird jumped and ran, with Angus in tow. Weaving in and out of sagebrush, the intrepid but ill-fated Hun eluded Angus for some time before the mutt finally won.

    Brittany with chukar and Hun
    A chukar in one hand, Hun in the other

    So there you have it: a triply lousy day. Lousy with birds, lousy shooting, and lousy weather. I wouldn’t trade it for much.

    Here’s the video:

  • Getting High on Chukar

    Man hiking uphill in search of chukar
    The way up

    As I mentioned in an earlier post, when I moved up to Cambridge, I was excited about its proximity to the legendary chukar area called Brownlee. I’ve enjoyed exploring the new terrain in this area and have seen some pretty country. And I’ve been lucky enough to make it out in search of these birds nearly each weekend since the season started.

    I have not, however, yet found the bird numbers I’d anticipated. At the five or six spots I’ve humped significant ascents and traversed soreankle sidehills I haven’t succeeded at bagging more than a bird or two, and — in two cases — I’ve been skunked by the hill. Why? I’m not sure. I think it’s because I’m a slow learner, and I haven’t put in the hours (or seasons) to gain the local knowledge. What’s worked for me in the areas farther south that I know and understand hasn’t, so far, up here.

    Man and dog chukar hunting
    Diagonaling down to the chukar

    One hunch I need to test is the elevation thing. The drill for the area I am familiar with is this: leave the truck and hike straight uphill for 30-60 minutes, gain a ridge, work from above, and without fail Angus points a covey pretty close to the top or soon after we summit. I began doing it this way after a couple early incidents in which I watched Angus point facing uphill, only to see the chukar easily evade us by running uphill, often over the ridge high above me. No shot. So I’d rather over-climb and then work down to keep that heart (and lung) breaking sight to a minimum. I’ve seen lots of birds this way, and assumed I could apply the same approach anywhere.

    Up north, though, I think that this high-low method hasn’t worked well for me because I’ve gone way too high. All the birds here that I have found (that Angus has found, rather) have been much lower on a hill than I’m used to seeing. So I’ve gotten some good exercise but probably passed so far above the birds that Angus can’t get anything fresh on them. They might not have been that high for days, if at all.

    Man and Brittany with chukar harvest
    Results of the “go-high” approach down south

    This theory got some positive supporting data today. At 10:00 a.m. we hiked straight up to a ridge about 750 feet above the elevation of the truck parked along a river, and heard chukar below and to the west of us. I thought they were heading up the slope and thought — if we didn’t get into more birds up top — we might intercept those far-off chukar on our way back to the truck.

    Well, after a couple hours of tough hiking during which we saw no sign at all, even in good-looking habitat, I decided to try to find the covey we’d heard at the outset. I reached the high point of where I thought they were headed. No sign. Diagonaling back to the truck, and maybe 100 feet above the level of the road, Angus pointed about exactly where I figured we’d heard the birds calling earlier. Now noon, they hadn’t moved in two hours. Loads of fresh chukar poop littered the ground. Angus was locked. I knew the birds had to be there, and suddenly the first few lit. I managed to kill one and watched it fall while Angus had bounced to another point a few yards away. While reloading, of course, another dozen birds erupted from the bitterbrush and bunchgrass. And then another group. All nearly within range of the truck. Dammit.

    So maybe I’m learning something here. I’ll post an update at the next opportunity.

  • Walking for Chukar

    If you are ready to leave father and mother, and brother and sister, and wife and child and friends, and never see them again; if you have paid your debts, and made your will, and settled all your affairs, and are a free man; then you are ready for a walk.

    –Henry David Thoreau, “Walking” (1862)

    Man and dog hunting chukar
    Angus and I walking for chukar

    An extreme but considerable statement from someone whose thoughts bear considerable attention. For me, walking (and climbing and descending) in pursuit of chukar — when I’m in the middle of it — achieves Thoreau’s preconditions for a walk. Even if I’m fortunate enough to be accompanied by my wife or friends on these “walks,” I’m as free as I’ve ever felt, with no worries about bills, politics, or any other “affairs.” It’s much the same feeling I get from playing the bagpipes. Although I very much enjoy the company of my wife and friends on these walks, maybe I prefer hunting alone because — when I’m not hunting but thinking about hunting — I feel less guilty about my selfishness achieved while hunting.

    I wonder what Thoreau would say about my going at this all backwards, if it’s possible to become ready for a walk by starting the walk, a kind of arriving by commencing. When I set out for what I have come to expect will be a very enriching, liberating experience, I am certainly not “ready” to leave my loved ones and never see them again. And I know I’ll never start a walk debt-free.

    But in the process of hunting, walking on hillsides — and, this is important, reading Angus’s walking — everything but my body moving and my eyes and ears doing their best is eliminated. In those moments, were I to die I could say, easily, I am ready for a Thoreau-esque walk.

    Man walking in the fall with a gun
    On the way to a real walk

  • Cambridge

    Brittany, chukar, and Bob McMichael
    I like this new area. So do Angus, and Leslie, too (I think).

    I moved to Cambridge, Idaho in August to start a new career as a high school English teacher. For me, one of the draws to this place was its proximity to Brownlee Reservoir, the hills near which are famous for chukar. I pictured endless days of nothing but hiking up and down the cheatgrass and basalt slopes searching for alectoris chukar. School started August 20, reality set in, and weeks screamed by with very little time in boots.

    Things settled down a wee bit in late September, at least enough to feel I could afford a half-day on the weekend to explore the area with Angus and, if she was able to come up from Boise, my wife. Leslie is the skill behind the video and still cameras, girded by impressive fitness and even more by a remarkable interest in this activity, despite having once been a member of PETA. Still, the only shooting she does is with a camera.

    Anyway, I went one place when it was hot and very dry and found one very small covey despite some serious elevation and extended trekking. We took one bird off that hill, thanks to a marvelous but treacherous retrieve by Angus down, and then back up, a few clifflets. Like most reports of the early season’s drought-induced, parched habitat, mine was fairly bleak. Rain and “green-up” badly needed.

    Then it rained and snowed a little and, suddenly, got really cold. Any green-up got frozen and stayed below the surface. A new system with warmer temperatures and plenty of precipitation descended on us in late October, though, and today I saw the first little bits of green popping through the soil. Hopefully it will stay warm long enough for the birds to get full, happy, and healthy for the winter ahead.

    Hungarian partridge, chukar, Brittany spaniel
    Nice work if you can get it.

    Yesterday we found our first good spot and now I’m really excited. We hadn’t intended even to get out of the truck since it was cold, very windy, and raining. But Angus needed some exercise so we took a little stroll up a trail along a creek and suddenly heard what sounded like an ATV on the hill above us. It was a huge covey of chukar leaving the creek. The fun began, and soon we were into chukar and Huns. Less than an hour, two birds in the bag, and I can’t wait for more. To riff on the motto of our principal’s email signature, “The worst day chukar hunting is better than the best day at work.” Yeah.

    Below is a video compilation of the stuff we’ve done so far this season. Look for more soon (I hope).