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 …
50 miles from home, I realized that I forgot to pack my extra shells for our hunting and camping trip. I sat there for a few minutes in the passenger seat in silence and mad at myself at my unthinkable mistake and embarrassed to say anything to Bob. I wanted to run off and hide. …
"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 …
"Come on dogs, let's go hunting." Not just one dog but two. Not much more work having two. They get fed at the same time, go to bed at the same time, and adapt to each other's miscellaneous routines at home, like, for example, keying off of each other when it comes to hearing something …