Not just for the birds

Tag: Hells Canyon chukar

  • January

    January

    I ran into a friend the other day who gave me crap for not posting anything for a while. I appreciated it.

    This used to be my favorite time of the bird season. Not as many people to contend with. Peace and beauty of a remarkably different quality. The “certain slant of light.” Snow concentrated the birds into predictable places, and they seemed to hold better.

    Now I just feel sorry for the birds and don’t have the heart to bother them. Big snow Januarys, along with very cold air and lots of wind make it hard to find bare ground and food. Their will to live far eclipses mine. I’m not sure if chukar do this, but I know ruffed grouse spend a lot of the winter in snow caves they make, which shield them from wind and much colder temps than if they were out walking around or roosting somewhere. My dogs smell them through the snow, and they’d point them and bust them, giving me another chance to miss (if it was before the end of the year; they still point and bother grouse in January). To me, that’s not fair chase.

    Being back in galliforme country this year has been wonderful. Our two-year remote yearn, idiotic as it was, helped me appreciate the good days we can get in the field here. And we got plenty — not as many as we’d hoped, but they were almost all good days. And we’re older, which should equate to more patience somehow, although — for me — it’s debatable (especially if you ask Leslie; some things do never change). The worst thing about feeling our season is done is seeing how pent-up the dogs are. But they’ll get over it. I have more things to do than they, so it’s not as hard for me.

    We aim to enter next season in better shape than we did this year. For some reason, we failed to get chukar fit by mid-September. Too much golf? Just lazy? Still, we hunted into chukar shape and were able to do some tough hikes. We haven’t practiced getting old, so feeling we are old is odd. Something else to figure out. Or just accept. I’ve been keeping busy trying to get my first real estate client (hasn’t happened yet), writing a bunch of stuff, including a short novel set in chukar country which I haven’t been able to get anyone interested in yet (not surprising, but I like it and think it’s good).

    I’ll end with this because it’s been on my mind all season: I’ve noticed more boot-prints in places I never used to see them, on ridges far from anywhere a UTV can go, which means people are spreading over more chukar terrain. I think that’s great. Get out there.

  • Looking Back

    Looking Back

    We’re hunkered down again today. It was a blizzard this morning when we woke up. Bob and I really wanted to know the wind chill but our weather station anemometer stopped spinning due it to being caked with snow and ice from the cold winds. I’m not complaining one bit about the snow drift that was pushed against our front door when I went outside to get wood for the stove this morning; snow is needed for water this summer. I’m sure later while I’m out there pushing around the snow blower up and down our long gravel driveway that I might complain and utter a couple of choice words, especially if I break another shear pin from the big sticks and branches Peat manages to find from who knows where and leave scattered randomly on the driveway now buried in snow.

    Today is the day for doing those indoor projects you love and hate. After having papers and receipts spread all over our kitchen bar, Bob just finished doing our taxes and is now dreaming of a summer of fly-fishing in Montana and he’s doing research on Montana rivers and what kind of flies to tie. He also has a lot of school work to do today like grading papers, figuring out assignments, then practicing the bagpipes. He loves it.

    I’m waiting for the winds to stop. It’s pointless blowing snow when it will blow right back in my face. Bob’s recovery from his spine surgery is going well but he’s still not able to lift or move heavy things (or so he claims). Shoveling snow and snow blowing is my project today. In the meantime, I’ve been going through hunting photos from this season and finding the ones that represent just a small taste of our season spent with good people and better dogs.

  • A Gift

    A Gift

    Our annual Christmas Day hunt this year was spectacular. Last year pissing rain forced us to abandon our Hells Canyon hunt and sully ourselves with a silly quail jaunt: it was a 5-minute hunt because I brought 3 shells, which I spent in the first two minutes and hit nothing. Peat was so disappointed that, after I was ammo-less, he pointed and then — as if to demonstrate the sheer ridiculousness of the affair — nabbed a solo unsuspecting quail. Not this year.

    Starting to feel a lot like Christmas
    Cervus canadensis
    Healthy herd

    A thin blanket of day-old fresh snow. Bluebird sky punctuated by running veils of wispy clouds politely skirting the sun. 50 head of strangely calm elk. We went high and found some grouse hawthorned along a tightening draw where we’d busted a bunch of chukar the week before. No partridges in those trees. We climbed higher but it was not until we’d erased half the elevation that the dogs pointed, and it wasn’t until we’d gotten back to within a mile of the truck that we got into numbers. Until then, mostly one or two chukar in random places, in the wind, in the frigid shade, in the creek bottoms. But, even closer to the truck, a big covey busted wild, and we followed, which ended up doubling our outing.

    Climbing

    I shot deplorably. 2-for-12. Leslie fared better at 1-for-3. But it’s hunting, and was tremendously fun to see so many birds and try to catch up to them in thick cover. The birds we bagged were hard-earned and highly appreciated. Peat stuck with me as usual, and gifted me with some gorgeous points and two stellar retrieves. Angus the aged warrior managed, with some coaching from Leslie, to track down her lightly winged chukar that had run across the trail and into the creek; I watched her nifty shot while high above on a hill. Another gift.

    Whenever you go out you have no idea what awaits, and it’s only afterward that you’re aware of that, yet — at least for me — it’s probably the most magnetic thing about chukar hunting. Any hunting, really, if it is hunting. That’s really the gift, life in compressed form in a setting you choose with the creatures who mean most. Every hunt is like Christmas. On Christmas, it’s even better.

    Meaningful creatures
    Angus’s gift
    Evidence
    Predator grateful for prey

  • Giving Thanks

    Giving Thanks

    Our home in the country, Salubrious Basecamp as we affectionately call it, has seen a flurry of adventurous friends and family, hunters and non-hunters, visiting us the past couple of months, each of them wanting a chance to see what all the chukar hunting fuss is all about. We love that our visitors will take time out of their busy lives to make the drive. Our gracious guests, all of them, before arriving will always ask if we need any last minute food items from the city. They will come bearing new craft beers, pastries, breads, snacks, and even single malt whiskey from Taiwan (of all places), things we can’t buy in town at our local general store. We ask them to only bring themselves, but are very grateful of the gifts. In return, we’ll make some game bird-inspired dishes like prosciutto-wrapped grouse marsala or chukar nachos, and take them to some of our favorite public land hunting grounds and allow the ones that hunt the opportunity to shoot over our dogs. It’s not just anyone we’d trust with doing this.

    On this day of thanks-giving, I’m most grateful for our family, friends, and the good dogs that enrich our lives and the fond memories of hiking the chukar hills with them.

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    Cyclists and mountaineers Jon and Sarah

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    Jon on the descent

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    Avid fly-fishing nephew, Finn on the right

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    Runner, teacher, and new hunter Gretchen

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    Gretchen’s puppy Cody smelling wild chukar for the first time

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    Ultra-marathoners and triathletes, Bill and Kim

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    Cody hot on my heels learning about chukar terrain

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    Happy Thanksgiving

  • A Good Opening

    Well, depending on your perspective…

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    Breaking before the climb

    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.

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    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.

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    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.

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    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).

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    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.

    Enjoy the wee video.