Not just for the birds

Tag: idaho 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.

  • Hurrah

    Hurrah

    Great weekend around here. Friends spelled us from our default being together in our separatenesses, and they hunted with Leslie Saturday and Sunday. On Saturday I thought I’d head up the old dirt road with them until they started climbing, and it was wonderful to get outside in the terrain I adore. Fog hung around a little while, but we soon got out of it, about the time the dogs treed a large ruffed grouse, and set in baying like coon hounds. I tried to get it to fly from its hawthorn branch perch so that the dogs would give up the ghost on the grouse, but it just would not budge. Leslie fixed it by shaking the whole tree, and reluctantly it fled.

    Walking back down the road alone was weird. It couldn’t have been more beautiful and temperate on January 26th, and I knew birds surrounded me on the ridges above. Not being permitted to pursue them is something I just haven’t experienced until now. And I’ve never walked in chukar country without at least one of my beloved Brittanys. Perhaps it’s a preview of impending reality.

    Today I was all in. We walked up the same road, and Leslie wanted to hunt the opposite ridge. It was icy in the shade, but we made it up the slope without any of us falling, and eventually to a ridge containing some birds. Not having my gun or pack, but the Nikon, I had no trouble going up or down, and am thrilled nothing hurts, even now, hours later as I write this.

    Enjoy the photos.

    Charge!
    Whoa!
    “It was up there not long ago where I swear I saw a Himalayan snowcock!”
    “Yeah, right up there in those rocks. It was HUUUUGE!”
    Gretchen didn’t fall for it, but Leslie’s still laughing.
    Following in some other creatures’ feetsteps.
    Evidence of Goodale’s Cutoff?
    Lots of crossings today.
    Wallowas, wow. If you look carefully, you can see Angus pointing, and Peat heading over to him.
    Angus backed by Peat backed by the Wallowas. Not sure if Leslie realizes Angus is pointing.
    Birds go, Gretchen shoots, Peat pursues, gentlewoman Leslie watches.
    Kind of tricky descent with mud, ice, and snow.
    Angus never stops. 20 miles yesterday, at least 10 today, on severe terrain. Marvel.

  • 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.

    peatsnake
    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.

  • Me Find Birds

    Residual chukar
    Residual chukar

    It’s days like this which, despite the snags, make the rest worthwhile.

    I shot horrendously. I tied up the boat after a 12-mile trip in the chill morning air to discover I’d forgotten to put my boots – the most important piece of equipment – in the boat (so I motored back to the dock, and got ’em, adding an hour to the endeavor). Leslie and Angus waited patiently.

    But oh, the birds. In just two hours of hiking (very hard hiking) we saw over 100 chukar in at least four coveys. I haven’t seen this many coveys of this many birds in quite a while, maybe ever. I bagged only one bird (no excuses, but man, that is hard to take), and my friend Dan (who hunted elsewhere this day) thought it was the largest chukar he’s ever seen (he’s a retired US Fish & Wildlife bird biologist and lifelong upland hunter).

    So here’s a short video of the day. Enjoy.

  • Week Two: conflict, torn metal, and joy

    Failed negotiation
    Failed negotiation

    Saturday proved unsuccessful in several areas:

    1. Aside from a couple of stealthy ruffed grouse, we saw no birds of any kind in nearly 4 hours of hiking high and low across chukarific terrain, some of which Leslie termed, “the most technical hiking I’ve ever done.”
    2. During our lunch break in the boat, I was unable to convince The Kid to trade me his peanut butter (Skippy Creamy), jam (strawberry), Cheetohs (made with real cheese), sandwich (on white bread) for my piece of cold pizza. I tried my best to save face after being shot down, but it didn’t feel good. Never try to separate an 11-year-old from his sandwich.
    3. On our way back to the dock, flying along at a good clip in the Sea Runner across some pretty big chop, we encountered a stranded boat, and towed it and its grateful occupants back to the dock. Somewhere along the way, however, our propeller got shredded. Ah, the costs of being a good Samaritan.
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    Sea Runner as tugboat

    As far as the non-chukarness goes, my only theory – which is worth its weight in a couple ruffed grouse tail feathers – is that the stiff wind had them hunkered down somewhere we weren’t lucky enough to stumble across. We focused on the leeward slopes and draws, in places we’d heard and seen chukar all summer long. Maybe the change in weather sent them packing to higher ground, but there’s no greenup anywhere yet.

    Working the downwind slopes with The Kid
    Working the downwind slopes with The Kid

    Sunday worked out better, without the boat. Angus and I headed up an old, familiar trail along a creek, and within 30 minutes I had three ruffed grouse in my bag. We continued up the road a couple miles and then decided we’d better ascend and look for chukar.  Hiking up the steep slopes was bone dry, with thick, very tall bunch grass, often over Angus’ head. Very tough footing. Steady, calm wind, warm. I was dubious about finding birds high up with no greenup whatsoever, but Angus pointed just below the ridge top on the east-facing slope (about mid-day). A good covey of 20 chukar rose, and I got two adults. I kept thinking we’d find some more birds on the way down, but didn’t. Still, a really, really good day.

    I think I learned they can be anywhere, regardless of obvious food sources. Taking a page out of my old book of hiking to the ridge, working it carefully on both sides with the dog, and praying we’ll find something might be the ticket. It’s just that it’s so damned hard to get up the hill.

    What a relief to get to the ridge and mostly flat footing.
    What a relief to get to the ridge and mostly flat footing.
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    A soothing bath for Angus after a great day’s work
    Bonus shed, with the day's plenty
    Bonus shed, with the day’s plenty