Not just for the birds
The two years we lived in Washington, as I've said here before, were not the easiest two years for us. We missed the chukar hills, empathized with our dogs' longings for open hills of bunchgrass and sage, and just simply were unable to ignore the call to the hills. Local surrogates paled in comparison. When …
"As for me, I am tormented with an everlasting itch for things remote." - Herman Melville, Moby Dick. So far this season, Bob and I have been only hunting at higher elevations where the earthy golden grasses and light green sage colored hills meet up with the forested mountains. These are places to take advantage …
I got a sick queasy feeling deep in my stomach as we detoured and drove into rural Council, Idaho. The curbside spot right out front of the local veterinary office was the exact spot where we'd parked the bright red Jeep two years before and it was empty and waiting for us. Just like the …
Some things are rituals. It was never discussed on Saturday but over the course of the last four months it was customary or tradition that we'd bird hunt on every Sunday. Last Sunday morning while sitting in front of the wood stove drinking coffee and looking out the living room window toward the mountains, Bob …
As usual, chukar hunting, like some of the best things in life, continues not to make much sense to me. What does make sense to me is that the fact that it doesn't make sense is probably the reason I keep doing it, not necessarily so I can find some sense in it, but because …