Knowing fully the changes going on around us as we hunt this season my pace has slowed. It's truly painful to see places one after another transformed from big expanses of upland cover to bare and plowed expanses of nothingness. That's from a bird hunter's perspective anyway.
On this day the Setter's were restless by mid day with me not having reached for my hunting clothes. They keep watch waiting for some indicator that we're once again heading for the field. This is the week before the North Dakota deer season and there are still way to many hunter's for what is available to hunt. I've switched to hunting afternoons which seems to give some relief from the throngs of pickup trucks with groups of hunters looking for a place to hunt. Most settle for small sloughs they can easily access and surround.
The sun sets at 6:35 today so I hold off the Setter's till about 3:30 before picking up my gear and putting on my boots. This is what they'd been waiting for all day. I'm immediately surrounded by 3 eager tail wagging and very capable bird dog's. I'd been thinking all day about an out of the way place we could run big and not encounter anyone else. In my mind I owe it to these incredible animals to hunt them to their potential. Challenge them. The reward for me is to watch them perform their magic. Hopefully culminating in a point and a shooting opportunity for them as much as myself.
We head out in the Jeep for a section of wheat stubble with several small weedy patches and sloughs that border a large pothole with a little cover on the south side. This area holds both pheasants and grouse and even an occasional covey of huns in my experience over the past several years. Adjacent to this section to the south is 320 acres that was in CRP the last ten year's I've been coming here but now sits mowed off and covered with round bales. Those round bales were what once was some great cover we hunted every year and contain many memories and moments we'll never forget.
I park the Jeep and let the Setter's out getting they're GPS collar's turned on and my gear ready. We cast westward into the wind toward the first couple of sloughs. As we come to a rise in sight of the cover I don't see it. What's happened I think to myself. Then as I watch the Setter's casting in the wheat stubble I notice the disk marks around where the weedy patches used to be. Then I just stand and look over the square mile I'm in realizing it's the "Reclamation". The drought brought with it the opportunity for farmers to disk right through these patches of cover so important to these birds and myself as a hunter. There was once probably a dozen of them in this field not more than an acre each but enough to hold birds. Now the farmer takes it back when he can having lost it to some recent very wet years.
The wheat stubble is long and I decide to let the Setter's work it hoping maybe we might come across birds. The only scent they pick up however is from geese that had been feeding in the stubble. It's a half mile to the pot hole which still has a weedy patch around it so we walk on. There actually it turns out to be some heavy weedy cover about 2 acres maybe and the Setter's immediately start working scent. Suddenly I see no dog's moving. It's quiet. I knew I had dog's on point but couldn't see them in the mix of weeds and grass. I check my GPS and realize they're in front of me. As I move forward I see Mick holding steady looking right in the direction I'm heading. Then I see Molly to his left 50 feet steady as well. I don't have time to check Beau's location but assume he's pointing the same birds. Suddenly two hens flush behind me and to the right. A couple seconds later 3 or 4 more birds flush to Mick's left. They were "can't tells" as the light didn't allow me to get a good look. No worries. Then Beau moves in towards Mick's location and a mature rooster then suddenly bolts to the east at 35 yards. By the time I mount my gun it was a long shot and miss. We move to the east and work more hens coming to the end of the cover. I turn back to the west and see a coyote sneak out and run across the wheat stubble having obviously been working the same birds.
The rooster looked like it didn't go far so we worked around the section line road at the end of this cover. Beau picked up scent and within seconds came to point. I thought this may be the rooster but nothing was there. Probably where he had just come down minutes before. The Setter's excited again worked up and down the section line road working another hen which Mick pointed. Then I turned them back once again to see if we walked by the rooster. I lost sight of Mick until I came to where the water crossed the road. As I looked about the cattails I caught sight of him. He was waiting for me I realized and when he saw I had seen him wagged his tail then straightened it as if to say "OK here we go!" He was actually standing in water and as I took two more steps the rooster bolted again back toward the weed patch. I fired one shot and missed again. That was great fun and I gave Mick a good "Thank you" as he wagged his tail. It's funny how he communicates with me like that and he also is the one that ends up more often than not doing the detective work on birds like that.
We walked the mile down the section line road back to the Jeep as I thought about the reclamation and what it means. These Setter's are capable of providing me with some incredible experiences if I get them on birds in the right cover. But this is season 10. We've had a great run together. We were here during some of the best days in North Dakota. I'm thankful for that more than I can say. But it will be different now. The same experiences will be possible but we'll have to travel more which means less time in the field. More hunters will be competing to hunt less cover and less birds. This isn't a cycle it's the end of an era. And that is the painful truth about "The Reclamation" .
Monday, November 12, 2012
Monday, October 22, 2012
Road Trip
The second day of intense winds brings a knock on my door at 8:00 a.m. as I sit at the dining table with my breakfast of french pancakes and coffee. A morning ritual of checking my email and visiting the news sites. Like any of that news is going to change my day! But now interrupted by all 3 Setters sounding the alarm. Having lived in a secluded rural setting for over 30 years I'm still not used to having neighbors that can make stealth approaches then suddenly rapping on your door! Bam! Bam! Bam!
In my bathrobe I respond to the racket thinking "Who in the hell could this be?" My first thought was Mary the lady two blocks north who makes it her business to know mine it seems but as I go to the door and look through the glass its definitely not Mary. Its my friend Tom who I haven't seen in several months!
Anyway I welcome Tom back to N.D. getting him a cup of coffee as I finish my breakfast catching up on each others first few days of the season. Tom had been in town early for an adult education round table at the local Catholic church that meets every week. Having gotten to know a couple of the parishioners while attending church here he was invited to attend. It was a pleasant surprise and I suggested since there was no hunting to be done in the wind that we should take a ride 40 miles south to a little German community named Hague. There is a Catholic church there on the National Historic Register I thought Tom may appreciate seeing. I explained the article just featured in the Bismarck Tribune detailing a recent renovation of the church and its history. Besides I said we can scout out some areas I haven't looked at in a while as we travel.
Tom cleaned out his front seat while I got ready to go and we were off on our road trip. Whenever Tom visits we usually meet up on a catch as catch can basis and today was no different. On the way down we drove by areas we'd hunted over the years remarking about the changes to the landscape and the times we'd had. For years we were on the road during vacations sharing these times together. Then I eventually moved out here full time and our routine changed as all things do eventually just like the landscape and bird populations.
One thing that never changes though is our ability to share and discuss our views on a myriad of subjects. We sharpened these skills having spent many long hours travelling cross country to our various hunting destinations. Good conversations. Funny conversations. Deep philosophical and profound conversations. While we may see the world differently in many ways we share the belief that only we are responsible for how we choose to live our lives.
As we approach the tiny town of Hague you see the church steeple jutting into the sky. A picturesque setting indeed. I had hunted in this area many times stopping at the local cafe for a piece of pie or two on the way home but never ventured into St Mary's Catholic church until today. As we pull up the cornerstone reads 1929. Built in the midst of the depression years solely out of the generosity of the members its an incredible sight. Almost certainly out of place in its surroundings. When we enter it's a 600 seat high ceiling church with all the statuary and art work you would expect in any big city cathedral but right out here in a little prairie town. We linger taking it all in for about 45 minutes before exiting. It's a story about faith and the perseverance of people to preserve and protect their church. Giving all they could and then some. As you look around there are no obvious signs of any wealth that may have existed in the old homes around town. None. Only the prairie that surrounds it.
We capped off our tour with coffee at the local cafe. A simple stucco building on main street if you will. We talk as a couple hunters make their way in as I ask jokingly "What are you guys doing in here today? It's not raining out there is it?" They laughed saying they just needed a piece of pie before they went out. Being I expect in their late 60's or early seventies these guys looked like long time hunting partners just enjoying each others company. Not unlike Tom and myself really.
Tom picks up the check and I head out to the truck with the wind blowing and a light drizzle coming down now as well. As I sit waiting a suburban with Minnesota license plates pulls up. An older gentleman gets out dressed in well worn hunting clothes and makes his way to the steps. He's got to be in his late seventies and moves slowly. I see his dog waiting in the front seat and notice the old hunters got an obvious wet spot in his crotch as he climbs the steps. He doesn't look like he would care if anybody noticed he had an "accident". Maybe he didn't even know. I had just seen the hunters inside who had about ten years on us and this guy had at least another ten years on top of that I'd guess. But still out there. Walking behind his dog. I watched as he disappeared inside the cafe. Thinking whats it going to be like for me at that age. Would I still be out here in twenty years?
On the way home the conversation drifted a bit as it always does covering people and events that came to mind. I couldn't help think about the changes at hand in both our lives. Will our common interest survive another decade or two. Will the conversation still be as relevant. Will we still be hunting like the old hunter I had seen. As I thought about the two guys at the next table I wondered if they ever thought about the same things. For Tom and myself the direction we each choose to go over time will most certainly be our own doing. That's the way we both lead our lives. Whether or not we'll ever have a cup of coffee in Hague again or sit beside each other in St Mary's Catholic church I don't know. Can't say. While we can't predict the future maybe we saw it today in the hunters we came across. The two guys next to us still at it in their 60's. Then the old man. Alone. Barely able to make it up the steps with his dog watching in the front seat. It all made good conversation for sure and another "Road Trip" I'll remember.
In my bathrobe I respond to the racket thinking "Who in the hell could this be?" My first thought was Mary the lady two blocks north who makes it her business to know mine it seems but as I go to the door and look through the glass its definitely not Mary. Its my friend Tom who I haven't seen in several months!
Anyway I welcome Tom back to N.D. getting him a cup of coffee as I finish my breakfast catching up on each others first few days of the season. Tom had been in town early for an adult education round table at the local Catholic church that meets every week. Having gotten to know a couple of the parishioners while attending church here he was invited to attend. It was a pleasant surprise and I suggested since there was no hunting to be done in the wind that we should take a ride 40 miles south to a little German community named Hague. There is a Catholic church there on the National Historic Register I thought Tom may appreciate seeing. I explained the article just featured in the Bismarck Tribune detailing a recent renovation of the church and its history. Besides I said we can scout out some areas I haven't looked at in a while as we travel.
Tom cleaned out his front seat while I got ready to go and we were off on our road trip. Whenever Tom visits we usually meet up on a catch as catch can basis and today was no different. On the way down we drove by areas we'd hunted over the years remarking about the changes to the landscape and the times we'd had. For years we were on the road during vacations sharing these times together. Then I eventually moved out here full time and our routine changed as all things do eventually just like the landscape and bird populations.
One thing that never changes though is our ability to share and discuss our views on a myriad of subjects. We sharpened these skills having spent many long hours travelling cross country to our various hunting destinations. Good conversations. Funny conversations. Deep philosophical and profound conversations. While we may see the world differently in many ways we share the belief that only we are responsible for how we choose to live our lives.
As we approach the tiny town of Hague you see the church steeple jutting into the sky. A picturesque setting indeed. I had hunted in this area many times stopping at the local cafe for a piece of pie or two on the way home but never ventured into St Mary's Catholic church until today. As we pull up the cornerstone reads 1929. Built in the midst of the depression years solely out of the generosity of the members its an incredible sight. Almost certainly out of place in its surroundings. When we enter it's a 600 seat high ceiling church with all the statuary and art work you would expect in any big city cathedral but right out here in a little prairie town. We linger taking it all in for about 45 minutes before exiting. It's a story about faith and the perseverance of people to preserve and protect their church. Giving all they could and then some. As you look around there are no obvious signs of any wealth that may have existed in the old homes around town. None. Only the prairie that surrounds it.
We capped off our tour with coffee at the local cafe. A simple stucco building on main street if you will. We talk as a couple hunters make their way in as I ask jokingly "What are you guys doing in here today? It's not raining out there is it?" They laughed saying they just needed a piece of pie before they went out. Being I expect in their late 60's or early seventies these guys looked like long time hunting partners just enjoying each others company. Not unlike Tom and myself really.
Tom picks up the check and I head out to the truck with the wind blowing and a light drizzle coming down now as well. As I sit waiting a suburban with Minnesota license plates pulls up. An older gentleman gets out dressed in well worn hunting clothes and makes his way to the steps. He's got to be in his late seventies and moves slowly. I see his dog waiting in the front seat and notice the old hunters got an obvious wet spot in his crotch as he climbs the steps. He doesn't look like he would care if anybody noticed he had an "accident". Maybe he didn't even know. I had just seen the hunters inside who had about ten years on us and this guy had at least another ten years on top of that I'd guess. But still out there. Walking behind his dog. I watched as he disappeared inside the cafe. Thinking whats it going to be like for me at that age. Would I still be out here in twenty years?
On the way home the conversation drifted a bit as it always does covering people and events that came to mind. I couldn't help think about the changes at hand in both our lives. Will our common interest survive another decade or two. Will the conversation still be as relevant. Will we still be hunting like the old hunter I had seen. As I thought about the two guys at the next table I wondered if they ever thought about the same things. For Tom and myself the direction we each choose to go over time will most certainly be our own doing. That's the way we both lead our lives. Whether or not we'll ever have a cup of coffee in Hague again or sit beside each other in St Mary's Catholic church I don't know. Can't say. While we can't predict the future maybe we saw it today in the hunters we came across. The two guys next to us still at it in their 60's. Then the old man. Alone. Barely able to make it up the steps with his dog watching in the front seat. It all made good conversation for sure and another "Road Trip" I'll remember.
Winds 40 to 60 Mph
The first week of the 2012 pheasant season started out with moderate temperatures and wind but after 5 days turned into more typical North Dakota weather. The wind machine really cranked it up for Wednesday and Thursday with sustained winds in the 40 to 60 Mph range. This virtually shut down hunting with only a few brave souls seen out in the intense wind.
Actually for me it was a nice break in the action having been hunting since the first week in September trying to figure out a best strategy to beat the Sharptail firmly positioned in the sea of corn. It sure was easy when wheat was king in this region! So what to do with this unexpected break? An easy question actually. Day after day in the field creates lots of chores on days like this.
Top of the list was cleaning up the Setters. Even though the grooming process is ongoing a thorough job of combing,clipping and bathing was in order. These are not "slough dog's". They are beautiful creatures with silky soft hair that blows in the wind as they surf across the terrain searching for scent. A perfect compliment to the landscape. Big expanses of grass and open pasture is where they belong and perform they're magic. However in season 10 the reality is that the birds have been left with little refuge in those areas due to the drought and the loss of thousands of acres of CRP grass. Whats left if you want to pursue the wild and unpredictable Rooster's is the cattails,weed patches and cockle burr infested depressions within crop fields and edges called "sloughs". In wet years all of these contain water but this year the edges are very muddy causing the Setters to wade into mud to drink and lay about cooling off. After a day of "slumming" as it were they come home totally trashed. Both muddy and full of burrs. So today it's an inside job. Into the bathtub after a thorough combing and clip job. Complete with cream rinse and nail clipping. They know this ritual well and are always glad to be clean once again quickly falling asleep as they relax as the wind howls.
During the first month of season 10 I've worn 4 pairs of boots rotating as I dry them on the boot dryer. I've had all these boots for several years. A couple have been resoled and due to being well maintained have endured the years of walking mile after mile welcoming being oiled after cycles of wetness to drying. They are essential tools in the game of bird hunting. I love good boots as without them you can't play this game. Not for very long anyway. The first time I ordered a pair of custom made boots I was skeptical as to their value but was soon convinced. Along with good wool socks they are as essential as a good bird dog! So today I oil all the boots and replace a set of laces on a pair. The house is taking on the smells of oiled leather and dog shampoo as the Setters sleep soundly raising an occasional eye as I go to and from the front porch where I keep my gear in a storage room. There sit 4 more pair of boots awaiting rotation into the mix.
My favorite Sharptail gun is a 20 gauge Galazan RBL. I also use a 12 gauge Ruger Gold Label and a couple 16 gauge guns. All double's. Today is no better day of course to thoroughly go over all the guns as well. It's fun to rotate through them discovering what I like about each one once again. Kind of like revisiting an old friend if you will. I remember as I go the moments that stand out in my mind as I clean and oil them all. The task stops being a chore and turns into a welcomed walk down memory lane as the wind continues shaking the trees and the windows as well.
Each season I seem to pick a favorite pair of pants which when outfitted with suspenders I wear day after day. The only break in the rotation will be if they don't dry by the next morning. This year its a pair if Filson pants. They will not be washed untill the last day of the season. I have often joked that I believe I have enough hunting pants to last the rest of my life. It's really no joke as I believe it to be true. I patch and repair them until there's no hope. Like everything else there are favorites. But anyway the mud wears off and the blood fades eventually. I check the pockets removing any debris and replace the batteries in my Garmin receiver reattaching it to the belt strap and replacing it in the right pocket of my pants. The Garmin collars are hooked up to the charger as well. I hang the pants up today on the front porch coat rack. My objective is to clear the dining room table if only for a day. The nylon mesh hunting shirts go to the wash of which I have 4. My leather vest is cleared of debris and extra shotgun shells. I then check to make sure my spare Jeep key is where its supposed to be in the zippered pocket on the inside. Check.
My shell /game bags are next to get the once over. I prefer not to wear a vest so I rotate between two bags I set up for whatever guns I'm using. This means 3 gauges of shells and in addition both lead and steel shot. It can make quite a mess out of the shell bag and the back of the Jeep as I switch from one to the other. The Jeep will wait for another day but I make quick work out of emptying the bags and sort the remaining shells discarding feathers and spent shell casings.
To the smell of clean dog's, guns and oiled boots I now add a little Murphys Oil soap to a bucket of hot water and scrub the vinyl floor on my hands and knees. The mop sponge is worn out so its on all 4's as I cover the whole downstairs. Not such a bad job really. The water turns dark quickly as the fine dust from that black slough mud comes off the floor. This is designed to be a hunter's house. Lived in and enjoyed by both hunter's and dog's. I'm just a little lemon oil on the woodwork away from enjoying an afternoon cup of coffee now. All the time I can hear the wind gusting leaving no doubt there is nothing else to be done on this day.
The Setters are all curled up and as I stop to pet them can feel the heat they generate as they dry out in the fetal position each one in their chosen spot. It's the first day of this intense wind and we've made good use of the time setting ourselves up for a break in the weather come Friday. One of the things I enjoy and laugh about as well is how I seem to have adapted to a dogs life. I'm talking about the afternoon nap time. There's a definite routine to it. And I join them as they sleep away the afternoon with "Winds 40 to 60 Mph".
Actually for me it was a nice break in the action having been hunting since the first week in September trying to figure out a best strategy to beat the Sharptail firmly positioned in the sea of corn. It sure was easy when wheat was king in this region! So what to do with this unexpected break? An easy question actually. Day after day in the field creates lots of chores on days like this.
Top of the list was cleaning up the Setters. Even though the grooming process is ongoing a thorough job of combing,clipping and bathing was in order. These are not "slough dog's". They are beautiful creatures with silky soft hair that blows in the wind as they surf across the terrain searching for scent. A perfect compliment to the landscape. Big expanses of grass and open pasture is where they belong and perform they're magic. However in season 10 the reality is that the birds have been left with little refuge in those areas due to the drought and the loss of thousands of acres of CRP grass. Whats left if you want to pursue the wild and unpredictable Rooster's is the cattails,weed patches and cockle burr infested depressions within crop fields and edges called "sloughs". In wet years all of these contain water but this year the edges are very muddy causing the Setters to wade into mud to drink and lay about cooling off. After a day of "slumming" as it were they come home totally trashed. Both muddy and full of burrs. So today it's an inside job. Into the bathtub after a thorough combing and clip job. Complete with cream rinse and nail clipping. They know this ritual well and are always glad to be clean once again quickly falling asleep as they relax as the wind howls.
During the first month of season 10 I've worn 4 pairs of boots rotating as I dry them on the boot dryer. I've had all these boots for several years. A couple have been resoled and due to being well maintained have endured the years of walking mile after mile welcoming being oiled after cycles of wetness to drying. They are essential tools in the game of bird hunting. I love good boots as without them you can't play this game. Not for very long anyway. The first time I ordered a pair of custom made boots I was skeptical as to their value but was soon convinced. Along with good wool socks they are as essential as a good bird dog! So today I oil all the boots and replace a set of laces on a pair. The house is taking on the smells of oiled leather and dog shampoo as the Setters sleep soundly raising an occasional eye as I go to and from the front porch where I keep my gear in a storage room. There sit 4 more pair of boots awaiting rotation into the mix.
My favorite Sharptail gun is a 20 gauge Galazan RBL. I also use a 12 gauge Ruger Gold Label and a couple 16 gauge guns. All double's. Today is no better day of course to thoroughly go over all the guns as well. It's fun to rotate through them discovering what I like about each one once again. Kind of like revisiting an old friend if you will. I remember as I go the moments that stand out in my mind as I clean and oil them all. The task stops being a chore and turns into a welcomed walk down memory lane as the wind continues shaking the trees and the windows as well.
Each season I seem to pick a favorite pair of pants which when outfitted with suspenders I wear day after day. The only break in the rotation will be if they don't dry by the next morning. This year its a pair if Filson pants. They will not be washed untill the last day of the season. I have often joked that I believe I have enough hunting pants to last the rest of my life. It's really no joke as I believe it to be true. I patch and repair them until there's no hope. Like everything else there are favorites. But anyway the mud wears off and the blood fades eventually. I check the pockets removing any debris and replace the batteries in my Garmin receiver reattaching it to the belt strap and replacing it in the right pocket of my pants. The Garmin collars are hooked up to the charger as well. I hang the pants up today on the front porch coat rack. My objective is to clear the dining room table if only for a day. The nylon mesh hunting shirts go to the wash of which I have 4. My leather vest is cleared of debris and extra shotgun shells. I then check to make sure my spare Jeep key is where its supposed to be in the zippered pocket on the inside. Check.
My shell /game bags are next to get the once over. I prefer not to wear a vest so I rotate between two bags I set up for whatever guns I'm using. This means 3 gauges of shells and in addition both lead and steel shot. It can make quite a mess out of the shell bag and the back of the Jeep as I switch from one to the other. The Jeep will wait for another day but I make quick work out of emptying the bags and sort the remaining shells discarding feathers and spent shell casings.
To the smell of clean dog's, guns and oiled boots I now add a little Murphys Oil soap to a bucket of hot water and scrub the vinyl floor on my hands and knees. The mop sponge is worn out so its on all 4's as I cover the whole downstairs. Not such a bad job really. The water turns dark quickly as the fine dust from that black slough mud comes off the floor. This is designed to be a hunter's house. Lived in and enjoyed by both hunter's and dog's. I'm just a little lemon oil on the woodwork away from enjoying an afternoon cup of coffee now. All the time I can hear the wind gusting leaving no doubt there is nothing else to be done on this day.
The Setters are all curled up and as I stop to pet them can feel the heat they generate as they dry out in the fetal position each one in their chosen spot. It's the first day of this intense wind and we've made good use of the time setting ourselves up for a break in the weather come Friday. One of the things I enjoy and laugh about as well is how I seem to have adapted to a dogs life. I'm talking about the afternoon nap time. There's a definite routine to it. And I join them as they sleep away the afternoon with "Winds 40 to 60 Mph".
Friday, October 12, 2012
The Circus Comes To Town
This is it. The eve of the 2012 pheasant season in North Dakota. The day the big rigs pull into town. I mean the fancy pickups with the custom dog boxes and trailers. The Cadillac Escalades that do double duty as the status vehicle at home and on the prairie.
As the crews get settled in they'll head out to scout the surrounding sections. Except this year it's all different. The grass is gone. The CRP has vanished and they'll be stunned at how bare and stark a landscape it is. Dry. Unfamiliar. Where will we hunt they'll ask. Where are the birds?
The majority of the crews hunt in gangs. The lab is the common breed of dog they use many of which haven't seen a day in the field in quite a while. But they'll be expected to perform miracles tommorow. How successful they'll be I can't say. There's no taking turns shooting with these crews. The mission is take no prisoners. Bird up and everyone shoots. Several times usually. Those tales will be told in the bars tommorow evening.
However I'm flattered by their presence knowing I live in a place bird hunters from all over the country deem a worthwhile destination. The average age goes up every year as this isn't a sport that seems to be drawing young people as time goes on among the traveling crowd anyway. Most of these guys will wonder after this season what happened. How could habitat and bird numbers change so dramatically year to year. Maybe this is it they'll think. A turning point. Maybe not worth coming next year.
As with any circus the costumes mask the true person underneath. So it is with these people. Behind the fancy rigs and gear you may or may not meet a true sportsman. You may or may not meet someone who has respect for fellow hunters and landowners let alone their dog's. I look for the older guys that travel in pairs. They're not loud but polite and don't display like peacocks with patches from this and that all over they're clothes. These are the guys that have real stories to tell and something to learn from if you can get them to talk because you see they've got no one to impress. That's not what it's about for them. On the other hand these days a field with their dog's and hunting partner mean the world to them. They respect the opportunity and any hospitality that's extended to them. I can spot them from quite a ways away.
The date I now wait for is the beginning of the North Dakota deer season. All the out of state traffic comes to a standstill and the local hunters then gas up their pickups and drive around trying to spot deer. This leaves the fields and pastures open. A feeling of solitude once again. Uninterrupted. Any late harvested crops reveal new groups of birds unharmed by the previous 3 weeks onslaught of gangs and their militia's with the magnum high speed loads. I'll stop to pick up their garbage. Shot shells, candy wrappers and those plastic soda bottles our culture just can't seem to live without now. I will never understand the littering but accept the sudden solitude as a true reward for choosing to live here. As quickly as "The Circus Comes To Town" it's gone again as the Setters and I turn into the wind.....
As the crews get settled in they'll head out to scout the surrounding sections. Except this year it's all different. The grass is gone. The CRP has vanished and they'll be stunned at how bare and stark a landscape it is. Dry. Unfamiliar. Where will we hunt they'll ask. Where are the birds?
The majority of the crews hunt in gangs. The lab is the common breed of dog they use many of which haven't seen a day in the field in quite a while. But they'll be expected to perform miracles tommorow. How successful they'll be I can't say. There's no taking turns shooting with these crews. The mission is take no prisoners. Bird up and everyone shoots. Several times usually. Those tales will be told in the bars tommorow evening.
However I'm flattered by their presence knowing I live in a place bird hunters from all over the country deem a worthwhile destination. The average age goes up every year as this isn't a sport that seems to be drawing young people as time goes on among the traveling crowd anyway. Most of these guys will wonder after this season what happened. How could habitat and bird numbers change so dramatically year to year. Maybe this is it they'll think. A turning point. Maybe not worth coming next year.
As with any circus the costumes mask the true person underneath. So it is with these people. Behind the fancy rigs and gear you may or may not meet a true sportsman. You may or may not meet someone who has respect for fellow hunters and landowners let alone their dog's. I look for the older guys that travel in pairs. They're not loud but polite and don't display like peacocks with patches from this and that all over they're clothes. These are the guys that have real stories to tell and something to learn from if you can get them to talk because you see they've got no one to impress. That's not what it's about for them. On the other hand these days a field with their dog's and hunting partner mean the world to them. They respect the opportunity and any hospitality that's extended to them. I can spot them from quite a ways away.
The date I now wait for is the beginning of the North Dakota deer season. All the out of state traffic comes to a standstill and the local hunters then gas up their pickups and drive around trying to spot deer. This leaves the fields and pastures open. A feeling of solitude once again. Uninterrupted. Any late harvested crops reveal new groups of birds unharmed by the previous 3 weeks onslaught of gangs and their militia's with the magnum high speed loads. I'll stop to pick up their garbage. Shot shells, candy wrappers and those plastic soda bottles our culture just can't seem to live without now. I will never understand the littering but accept the sudden solitude as a true reward for choosing to live here. As quickly as "The Circus Comes To Town" it's gone again as the Setters and I turn into the wind.....
We're From Michigan
With just a few days until the resident 2012 pheasant season opened here in North Dakota my neighbor Roger and I took a ride to scout some spots to the east a few miles. With the amount of acreage in corn this year I wanted to check on the harvest progress before deciding where I would hunt opening day with the Setters.
I had started the morning coming out to the Jeep to find the dome light had been left on over night running down the battery. This happens because the dogs bump the switch on the over head console. I suspect Beau as the perpetrator due to his height. We had been in the field the previous day with a lot of in and out of the Jeep so no surprise as this happens more than once throughout the season. So after jump starting the Jeep I wanted to let it run and charge up a bit. A good reason to ask my neighbor Roger if he wanted to go for a ride. Having been the former county agent Roger knows his way around and I enjoy his anecdotes of experiences he's had hunting throughout the years.
We were cruising along a secondary road noting the cover available within the harvested corn that being brushy areas along sloughs, fence rows and rock piles. We came over a small rise and noticed 2 hunters walking the road edge with two labs. I stopped not wanting to interfere as I thought they must be grouse hunting. Roger said "Go ahead lets say hello". So we pulled up ahead and I said to Roger " I think the guy on the right has a rooster in his hand!" Roger thought they were probably duck hunting as we pulled along side. Sure enough they come up to the windows and the guy's holding a rooster. I said " Hey guys how's it going? They said they'd been duck hunting as evidenced by the black camo on their faces. I commented on the rooster and they said yeah that's the second one we got. I looked at Roger and smiled saying "Well guys the season doesn't open till Saturday!" They acted surprised of course saying thanks for telling us. We said we did not plan on reporting them but suggested they make tracks to which they replied " We're going to get the hell out of here!" I reminded them to not waste the bird as we drove on.
I don't know many people that have never made a mistake in the field conscious or otherwise in my life time. Whether or not these guys were telling the truth was their business and only they own the responsibility with ignorance being no excuse. I didn't want to clutter my day over their obvious blunder putting themselves in jeopardy with a potential sizable fine and loss of hunting privileges It's my hope that the way we handled the encounter was enough cause for reflection on their part to make sure it doesn't happen again. After all it's the best outcome I would hope for if I ever found myself in such a predicament which would be highly unlikely. However for example I hunt upland birds in waterfowl production areas quite frequently and have game bags set up with either steel or lead shot. Sometimes I grab the wrong bag and forget or other times realize I've got some lead shells in a pocket. A violation and a mistake unintentional but a mistake. I realize this most of the time before I'm into the hunt to far but it happens and I go back to the Jeep and switch out my bag. No fine and no warden necessary.
I forgot to ask if these guys were from the U.P of Michigan or the State of Michigan. They weren't missing any front teeth or have an accent "ehh" so probably were not "Yoopers den". That would have made it easier to understand them not knowing if the season was open or not. So Roger and I of course weren't fooled by the "Really we didn't know" but instead believe getting caught by fellow sportsman if they were indeed from the State of Michigan should serve as a sufficient deterrent. When I run into Michigan hunters in the future I'll be sure to share the story to make sure they don't make the same mistake!
I had started the morning coming out to the Jeep to find the dome light had been left on over night running down the battery. This happens because the dogs bump the switch on the over head console. I suspect Beau as the perpetrator due to his height. We had been in the field the previous day with a lot of in and out of the Jeep so no surprise as this happens more than once throughout the season. So after jump starting the Jeep I wanted to let it run and charge up a bit. A good reason to ask my neighbor Roger if he wanted to go for a ride. Having been the former county agent Roger knows his way around and I enjoy his anecdotes of experiences he's had hunting throughout the years.
We were cruising along a secondary road noting the cover available within the harvested corn that being brushy areas along sloughs, fence rows and rock piles. We came over a small rise and noticed 2 hunters walking the road edge with two labs. I stopped not wanting to interfere as I thought they must be grouse hunting. Roger said "Go ahead lets say hello". So we pulled up ahead and I said to Roger " I think the guy on the right has a rooster in his hand!" Roger thought they were probably duck hunting as we pulled along side. Sure enough they come up to the windows and the guy's holding a rooster. I said " Hey guys how's it going? They said they'd been duck hunting as evidenced by the black camo on their faces. I commented on the rooster and they said yeah that's the second one we got. I looked at Roger and smiled saying "Well guys the season doesn't open till Saturday!" They acted surprised of course saying thanks for telling us. We said we did not plan on reporting them but suggested they make tracks to which they replied " We're going to get the hell out of here!" I reminded them to not waste the bird as we drove on.
I don't know many people that have never made a mistake in the field conscious or otherwise in my life time. Whether or not these guys were telling the truth was their business and only they own the responsibility with ignorance being no excuse. I didn't want to clutter my day over their obvious blunder putting themselves in jeopardy with a potential sizable fine and loss of hunting privileges It's my hope that the way we handled the encounter was enough cause for reflection on their part to make sure it doesn't happen again. After all it's the best outcome I would hope for if I ever found myself in such a predicament which would be highly unlikely. However for example I hunt upland birds in waterfowl production areas quite frequently and have game bags set up with either steel or lead shot. Sometimes I grab the wrong bag and forget or other times realize I've got some lead shells in a pocket. A violation and a mistake unintentional but a mistake. I realize this most of the time before I'm into the hunt to far but it happens and I go back to the Jeep and switch out my bag. No fine and no warden necessary.
I forgot to ask if these guys were from the U.P of Michigan or the State of Michigan. They weren't missing any front teeth or have an accent "ehh" so probably were not "Yoopers den". That would have made it easier to understand them not knowing if the season was open or not. So Roger and I of course weren't fooled by the "Really we didn't know" but instead believe getting caught by fellow sportsman if they were indeed from the State of Michigan should serve as a sufficient deterrent. When I run into Michigan hunters in the future I'll be sure to share the story to make sure they don't make the same mistake!
Tuesday, October 9, 2012
Winds 20 To 30 Mph
With 2012 being a record warm year I knew at the start of the season in September it would be difficult getting on birds for a number of reasons. Along with the heat there was the loss of thousands of acres of CRP land used by all species. The pastures were dry and in poor condition and most hay fields left little cover having been cut twice and or grazed as well. Even sloughs which were mostly dry this year had been mowed. The big factor in addition to all this was the transition from primarily wheat to primarily corn. In the years wheat was king the Sharptail were exposed early and then used the alfalfa and pastures but now the corn offers them relief from the hot sun and a food source well into fall making it difficult to find them in the open where a pointing dog can enjoy the challenge of setting a covey without busting them before I can get there.
So given all that what to do when the forecast is wind wind wind. Which in North Dakota is quite often. As a downhill skier I learned early on if you wait for the perfect day to head for the mountain you won't get many days in skiing! And so it is with bird hunting which is why I loaded up the Setter's yesterday for a full day in the field with a forecast featuring wind which was all of 20 to 30 mph!
My objective was two fold. First of all get out and just have some fun watching the pups cast about hoping to catch a covey of Sharptail getting up into the wind. Secondly to scout out some areas where corn may have been picked that may hold both pheasant and grouse. With the pheasant opener just days away I justified being the only guy out there scouting and Sharptail hunting I suspect.
First stop was a half section of hay ground that my neighbor had reported in talking to the landowner had a good number of Sharptail when it was cut in July. Also the adjoining section had been in corn and was recently cut exposing several sloughs with lots of weedy cover around them. This was owned by some folks two miles north. One of the ladies from the local Pheasants Forever chapter had called me earlier in the week asking me to donate some of my home baked pies for the local nursing home fundraising auction in October and in thanking me for committing to do so said I was more than welcome to hunt their property as well. That section with the corn recently picked was theirs.
So I let the Setters out and they cast about checking the edges and around the rockpiles glad to be at it once again. Beau and Molly pointed a group of pheasants right off the bat around the edge of a slough. We then worked towards the corn and a Sharptail single flushed wild from the edge. I rushed ahead hoping there were more but no cigar. There were however more pheasants up ahead as all 3 dogs pointed another small group around a weedy rockpile. The wind was incredibly strong but we were having fun and learning about this new ground. After a foray back into the hay field with no birds we came back down the edge where it met the corn and again all 3 dogs converged on point with a beautiful rooster bolting into the air reminding me how exciting these birds can be despite often times getting frustrated by their antics!
Now being a half mile from the Jeep I decided to see if we could locate that Sharptail but had no such luck but the Setters did work several more pheasants before we were done. As I loaded the pups I had to laugh at them thoroughly covered in cockle burrs! What the hell I thought. 'We're just having fun!". And like every day it was ours to do as we wished. Together.
Having logged another several hundred acres to hunt we headed 40 miles east to check some more ground. These were spots I'd hunted every year. The first of which we call the "Honey Hole." Ten years ago this half section surrounded by high hills was in alfalfa and was used by the surrounding Sharptail to raise their broods. It was an excellent spot for pointing dogs to work the early season. With many memories going through my mind I walked it again this windy day with Molly. However it's a cut soybean field today and all that was left for cover were the rock piles and edges. But we made a 3 mile trek around the outside. Molly pointed along a tree belt and as I walked forward a Sharptail flushed 50 yards ahead undoubtedly having recently been sitting by the trees. I fired two shots as it arced closest to me but it chuckled as it flew on with the wind. There are other spots in this vicinity we have fond memories of but we'd save them for another day.
Our last stop was another 6 miles east on a rolling ridge of a waterfowl production area overlooking several pot holes. It's another run I like to make every year and I was betting some Sharptail would be using it this windy day to hide from the strong gusts that just wouldn't quit. I was wearing my beaver western hat because it has a chin strap and is the only hat I could keep on besides a stocking cap which I don't like to wear. It was Beau's turn and we made a forty minute hike around the area with no results. The only thing that got Beau's attention was the fresh cow manure. What dog's see in this stuff I don't know but I had to scold him several times before we headed back to the Jeep.
On the way back I stopped and visited with some friends in the area bringing us close to supper time and with the somewhat sweet smell of cockle burrs in the Jeep we rode home having spent the whole day in the field. No birds in the game bag but lots of future possibilities as well as friends and ,memories revisited. A very good day indeed.
So given all that what to do when the forecast is wind wind wind. Which in North Dakota is quite often. As a downhill skier I learned early on if you wait for the perfect day to head for the mountain you won't get many days in skiing! And so it is with bird hunting which is why I loaded up the Setter's yesterday for a full day in the field with a forecast featuring wind which was all of 20 to 30 mph!
My objective was two fold. First of all get out and just have some fun watching the pups cast about hoping to catch a covey of Sharptail getting up into the wind. Secondly to scout out some areas where corn may have been picked that may hold both pheasant and grouse. With the pheasant opener just days away I justified being the only guy out there scouting and Sharptail hunting I suspect.
First stop was a half section of hay ground that my neighbor had reported in talking to the landowner had a good number of Sharptail when it was cut in July. Also the adjoining section had been in corn and was recently cut exposing several sloughs with lots of weedy cover around them. This was owned by some folks two miles north. One of the ladies from the local Pheasants Forever chapter had called me earlier in the week asking me to donate some of my home baked pies for the local nursing home fundraising auction in October and in thanking me for committing to do so said I was more than welcome to hunt their property as well. That section with the corn recently picked was theirs.
So I let the Setters out and they cast about checking the edges and around the rockpiles glad to be at it once again. Beau and Molly pointed a group of pheasants right off the bat around the edge of a slough. We then worked towards the corn and a Sharptail single flushed wild from the edge. I rushed ahead hoping there were more but no cigar. There were however more pheasants up ahead as all 3 dogs pointed another small group around a weedy rockpile. The wind was incredibly strong but we were having fun and learning about this new ground. After a foray back into the hay field with no birds we came back down the edge where it met the corn and again all 3 dogs converged on point with a beautiful rooster bolting into the air reminding me how exciting these birds can be despite often times getting frustrated by their antics!
Now being a half mile from the Jeep I decided to see if we could locate that Sharptail but had no such luck but the Setters did work several more pheasants before we were done. As I loaded the pups I had to laugh at them thoroughly covered in cockle burrs! What the hell I thought. 'We're just having fun!". And like every day it was ours to do as we wished. Together.
Having logged another several hundred acres to hunt we headed 40 miles east to check some more ground. These were spots I'd hunted every year. The first of which we call the "Honey Hole." Ten years ago this half section surrounded by high hills was in alfalfa and was used by the surrounding Sharptail to raise their broods. It was an excellent spot for pointing dogs to work the early season. With many memories going through my mind I walked it again this windy day with Molly. However it's a cut soybean field today and all that was left for cover were the rock piles and edges. But we made a 3 mile trek around the outside. Molly pointed along a tree belt and as I walked forward a Sharptail flushed 50 yards ahead undoubtedly having recently been sitting by the trees. I fired two shots as it arced closest to me but it chuckled as it flew on with the wind. There are other spots in this vicinity we have fond memories of but we'd save them for another day.
Our last stop was another 6 miles east on a rolling ridge of a waterfowl production area overlooking several pot holes. It's another run I like to make every year and I was betting some Sharptail would be using it this windy day to hide from the strong gusts that just wouldn't quit. I was wearing my beaver western hat because it has a chin strap and is the only hat I could keep on besides a stocking cap which I don't like to wear. It was Beau's turn and we made a forty minute hike around the area with no results. The only thing that got Beau's attention was the fresh cow manure. What dog's see in this stuff I don't know but I had to scold him several times before we headed back to the Jeep.
On the way back I stopped and visited with some friends in the area bringing us close to supper time and with the somewhat sweet smell of cockle burrs in the Jeep we rode home having spent the whole day in the field. No birds in the game bag but lots of future possibilities as well as friends and ,memories revisited. A very good day indeed.
Trespassing Sort Of
There is just some country that looks so good it makes me want to walk it with the Setters just for the experience. If it holds birds and we find them that's the reward. There's a couple of sections 12 miles north in some gentle rolling hills that fits that description. However there is no public access so I had to contact the landowner to make arrangements to hunt. I did that 3 years ago and every season I call to make sure we can still hunt. This area does hold both Sharptail and Pheasants while not in great abundance but being such a picturesque setting it's worth hunting to me.
There's alfalfa,wheat, and barley interspersed among the hills and valleys with some ridges that have steep points and bowls hidden from the wind that the Sharptail love. This farmer rotates his cattle so that the pastures are always left with plenty of cover having healthy stands of buffalo berries and cattails along the waterways.
I never take many birds here but every season shoot a few of both species mostly late season as it's pretty with a little snow cover over looking a lake to the east a few miles. This year on my scouting runs in July checking for how successful the hatch was I happened to see Sharptail along the road in this area so decided to hunt it earlier than normal. The amount of corn in the area this year though made the Sharptail hard to find anywhere else as they preferred the cover of the corn as a food source and relief from the intense heat we experienced all summer.
The Setters and I had made a trip up there last Saturday as we had located a nice covey earlier in the week without getting close to them and decided to try our luck on a day without as much wind. Upon arriving I noticed there was 80 acres of corn that was now picked on the southeast edge of the section so we started in the pasture adjacent to it betting the birds would be still close to the food source they'd most likely been living in all season for the most part.
After an hour we had moved a half a dozen birds without getting a point or a good shot so I opted to head back to the Jeep and circle around to the north hunting a ridge line I had watched a few birds head for. This was best a one dog run so I let Molly out and we headed for the ridge along a barley field which sloped sharply away to the north. Within a couple hundred yards a bird flushed wild off the top of a point and I shot and missed. Molly was working nicely up and down the sides within close range and after becoming birdy around one of the bowl formations another bird flushed straight away which I also missed having only a quick window of opportunity before it vanished over the hill.
As I walked to the top of the ridge I saw a man coming towards us directly in the path in which I had just shot. My first thought was this guy almost just got himself shot! His green pickup was parked along the fence line. With an "orange" Cabellas hunting vest and a "big" hunting knife hanging off his belt walking up to me as I was hunting I knew what this was about. His question as he approached was " Can you tell me what you're doing on this land?" I said well I've got permission from the owner and stated his name. The gentleman then told me he was a cousin and had been given permission to post the property. I stated again that I had just talked to the landowner earlier in the week. It was obvious he was upset that I was there and I assured him that I had plenty of places to hunt and did not plan on causing him any distress. But he went on to complain about the neighbors ruining his hunting in one way or another and let me know this used to be his fathers farm but was sold years ago and he now had no where else to hunt as he lives in Mandan 80 miles to the west coming here on weekends with his friends. Also known as "Gang Hunting". And also knowing there are endless public and private land hunting opportunities between here and there I listened while he went on and on about the history of the area and complaining about various other things.
I didn't want to spend any more time with this guy so asked if it was all right if I completed my run and he said sure if my cousin gave you permission go ahead but then repeated that he was here every weekend blah blah blah. So Molly and I moved on and within just a few minutes on the other side of the hill I had shot our first Sharptail of the morning for her which she proudly retrieved.
While I did certainly have permission to be hunting there I was trespassing in his mind and this type of interaction is exactly why I like to hunt public access land. There then is no disputing who has permission to hunt where and when. No contacting the landowner. No looking over your shoulder every time a truck drives by. And no misunderstandings with relatives. I will still hunt this area occasionally but during the week so as to not upset the balance so to speak! It's still a beautiful setting and worth the walk even if I'm" Trespassing Sort Of".
There's alfalfa,wheat, and barley interspersed among the hills and valleys with some ridges that have steep points and bowls hidden from the wind that the Sharptail love. This farmer rotates his cattle so that the pastures are always left with plenty of cover having healthy stands of buffalo berries and cattails along the waterways.
I never take many birds here but every season shoot a few of both species mostly late season as it's pretty with a little snow cover over looking a lake to the east a few miles. This year on my scouting runs in July checking for how successful the hatch was I happened to see Sharptail along the road in this area so decided to hunt it earlier than normal. The amount of corn in the area this year though made the Sharptail hard to find anywhere else as they preferred the cover of the corn as a food source and relief from the intense heat we experienced all summer.
The Setters and I had made a trip up there last Saturday as we had located a nice covey earlier in the week without getting close to them and decided to try our luck on a day without as much wind. Upon arriving I noticed there was 80 acres of corn that was now picked on the southeast edge of the section so we started in the pasture adjacent to it betting the birds would be still close to the food source they'd most likely been living in all season for the most part.
After an hour we had moved a half a dozen birds without getting a point or a good shot so I opted to head back to the Jeep and circle around to the north hunting a ridge line I had watched a few birds head for. This was best a one dog run so I let Molly out and we headed for the ridge along a barley field which sloped sharply away to the north. Within a couple hundred yards a bird flushed wild off the top of a point and I shot and missed. Molly was working nicely up and down the sides within close range and after becoming birdy around one of the bowl formations another bird flushed straight away which I also missed having only a quick window of opportunity before it vanished over the hill.
As I walked to the top of the ridge I saw a man coming towards us directly in the path in which I had just shot. My first thought was this guy almost just got himself shot! His green pickup was parked along the fence line. With an "orange" Cabellas hunting vest and a "big" hunting knife hanging off his belt walking up to me as I was hunting I knew what this was about. His question as he approached was " Can you tell me what you're doing on this land?" I said well I've got permission from the owner and stated his name. The gentleman then told me he was a cousin and had been given permission to post the property. I stated again that I had just talked to the landowner earlier in the week. It was obvious he was upset that I was there and I assured him that I had plenty of places to hunt and did not plan on causing him any distress. But he went on to complain about the neighbors ruining his hunting in one way or another and let me know this used to be his fathers farm but was sold years ago and he now had no where else to hunt as he lives in Mandan 80 miles to the west coming here on weekends with his friends. Also known as "Gang Hunting". And also knowing there are endless public and private land hunting opportunities between here and there I listened while he went on and on about the history of the area and complaining about various other things.
I didn't want to spend any more time with this guy so asked if it was all right if I completed my run and he said sure if my cousin gave you permission go ahead but then repeated that he was here every weekend blah blah blah. So Molly and I moved on and within just a few minutes on the other side of the hill I had shot our first Sharptail of the morning for her which she proudly retrieved.
While I did certainly have permission to be hunting there I was trespassing in his mind and this type of interaction is exactly why I like to hunt public access land. There then is no disputing who has permission to hunt where and when. No contacting the landowner. No looking over your shoulder every time a truck drives by. And no misunderstandings with relatives. I will still hunt this area occasionally but during the week so as to not upset the balance so to speak! It's still a beautiful setting and worth the walk even if I'm" Trespassing Sort Of".
Friday, August 31, 2012
More Along The Way
As we approached the sight of our morning run yesterday there was a group of Sharptail alongside the road milling about with their necks extended eyeing the adjacent hay field. They took flight to the east as we turned in to park and I thought we'd try to find them as we circled back west towards the Jeep.
With birds in the air before the pups were even on the ground they were more than excited. The temperature was finally reasonable after two days of intense heat making this our morning to stretch our legs once again. The Setter's were off to the east heading to a fence line 200 yards ahead when I heard the chuckling of birds taking flight. Tails were wagging and noses to the ground as they found the sight of the covey that had busted around a little rise just the other side of the fence.
The rancher had been rotating his cattle from pasture to hay field sectioning it off and allowing them to graze the alfalfa growth that had occurred since the June cutting. This was no good news for us as it further eliminated any cover for the birds. But we covered the ground to the west coming back through some heavier cover hoping to pin down some birds. As we approached from the west I came over a knoll to find the Setters on point but got no closer than 75 yards and the birds busted. With the cover so sparse the sight advantage was all in their favor this morning.
Moving through the heavier alfalfa sure enough Molly picked up scent first and pointed a double backed by Mick. Beau was casting up ahead along the edge. Molly worked ahead to the west pointing again. This time a group of three Sharptail with Mick again at her back. Beau was birdy but I suspect his birds had moved into the adjacent corn field. It was a nice end to the run as we were just 100 yards from the Jeep and took our time walking back. Such a great thing to be able to get these dog's on wild birds so frequently.
The rest of the morning I spent working on some maintenance around the house repairing some old single hung windows and painting the trim. I was up on the porch roof working on the front dormer windows when someone called my name from below. It was Mary from 2 blocks north. A retired lady in her late seventies who has made it her mission to keep track of what I'm doing it seems. Mary means well and living alone without family walks around town with the aid of a walker visiting as she goes putting more miles on that walker than her car I suspect. Her message for me was of course that I had better be careful up there and what was I doing up that high in the first place! I said " Don't worry Mary its not my time yet!" She replied " Well that's what Judy thought too but she died just last week and she was only 58!" Mary went on to tell me about her kids living down in the New Orleans area and about the storm. I'm trying to be a good sport and listen as I'm on the roof but thinking you know if you keep distracting me I probably will fall off the roof!
Mary cautioned me again before she was on her way saying if I fell onto the steps that'd be really bad! So back to work I go for about 10 minutes when I hear my name again. This time it's my neighbor to the east wondering what I'm doing up there as she heard hammering. I explain what I had just told Mary. Pauline then tells me our neighbor Erwin 1 block east had died this morning of a heart attack. Erwin age 93 had had an attack 2 weeks ago and after coming home from the hospital was driving around town at parade speed and drinking free coffee at the co-op like usual. His wife Eileen said he had had a couple bad days and they thought maybe it was the shrimp burger he ate. Pauline rolled her eyes and shook her head when she related that saying that they then had taken Erwin to the hospital where the doctor told him he had had another heart attack apparently. A day later he had another and was gone. I think this was the third death in town in a week. It's put everyone on edge somewhat as we all think about our mortality. And me being up on the roof am now thinking about it as well! Could it happen? Sure. I could trip on the power cord or a tool. How would the story be told? Well he was on the roof doing something. So and so had just talked to him and the next thing he was dead. Tripped and fell!
Having been sufficiently distracted I finished my work on the front dormer deciding to leave the back for another day when the vultures weren't circling overhead. But I had to laugh that even on the roof I couldn't escape the news at hand in my little town thanks to the well meaning friends and neighbors around me. So I indeed lived another day to write one more story about life "Along the way".
With birds in the air before the pups were even on the ground they were more than excited. The temperature was finally reasonable after two days of intense heat making this our morning to stretch our legs once again. The Setter's were off to the east heading to a fence line 200 yards ahead when I heard the chuckling of birds taking flight. Tails were wagging and noses to the ground as they found the sight of the covey that had busted around a little rise just the other side of the fence.
The rancher had been rotating his cattle from pasture to hay field sectioning it off and allowing them to graze the alfalfa growth that had occurred since the June cutting. This was no good news for us as it further eliminated any cover for the birds. But we covered the ground to the west coming back through some heavier cover hoping to pin down some birds. As we approached from the west I came over a knoll to find the Setters on point but got no closer than 75 yards and the birds busted. With the cover so sparse the sight advantage was all in their favor this morning.
Moving through the heavier alfalfa sure enough Molly picked up scent first and pointed a double backed by Mick. Beau was casting up ahead along the edge. Molly worked ahead to the west pointing again. This time a group of three Sharptail with Mick again at her back. Beau was birdy but I suspect his birds had moved into the adjacent corn field. It was a nice end to the run as we were just 100 yards from the Jeep and took our time walking back. Such a great thing to be able to get these dog's on wild birds so frequently.
The rest of the morning I spent working on some maintenance around the house repairing some old single hung windows and painting the trim. I was up on the porch roof working on the front dormer windows when someone called my name from below. It was Mary from 2 blocks north. A retired lady in her late seventies who has made it her mission to keep track of what I'm doing it seems. Mary means well and living alone without family walks around town with the aid of a walker visiting as she goes putting more miles on that walker than her car I suspect. Her message for me was of course that I had better be careful up there and what was I doing up that high in the first place! I said " Don't worry Mary its not my time yet!" She replied " Well that's what Judy thought too but she died just last week and she was only 58!" Mary went on to tell me about her kids living down in the New Orleans area and about the storm. I'm trying to be a good sport and listen as I'm on the roof but thinking you know if you keep distracting me I probably will fall off the roof!
Mary cautioned me again before she was on her way saying if I fell onto the steps that'd be really bad! So back to work I go for about 10 minutes when I hear my name again. This time it's my neighbor to the east wondering what I'm doing up there as she heard hammering. I explain what I had just told Mary. Pauline then tells me our neighbor Erwin 1 block east had died this morning of a heart attack. Erwin age 93 had had an attack 2 weeks ago and after coming home from the hospital was driving around town at parade speed and drinking free coffee at the co-op like usual. His wife Eileen said he had had a couple bad days and they thought maybe it was the shrimp burger he ate. Pauline rolled her eyes and shook her head when she related that saying that they then had taken Erwin to the hospital where the doctor told him he had had another heart attack apparently. A day later he had another and was gone. I think this was the third death in town in a week. It's put everyone on edge somewhat as we all think about our mortality. And me being up on the roof am now thinking about it as well! Could it happen? Sure. I could trip on the power cord or a tool. How would the story be told? Well he was on the roof doing something. So and so had just talked to him and the next thing he was dead. Tripped and fell!
Having been sufficiently distracted I finished my work on the front dormer deciding to leave the back for another day when the vultures weren't circling overhead. But I had to laugh that even on the roof I couldn't escape the news at hand in my little town thanks to the well meaning friends and neighbors around me. So I indeed lived another day to write one more story about life "Along the way".
Thursday, August 23, 2012
Old Age Bumps and Lumps
I've been watching the Setter's as we make our preseason runs evaluating their condition and stamina. I had noticed Mick slow up a bit last year but hunt just as effectively. It was so much fun to watch him use his wisdom and experience showing Molly and Beau how it's done time and again. Beau as I had mentioned had a couple days where his leg had swollen up when we were in Wisconsin in June but it returned to normal on it's own. I decided it must have been a spider bite possibly. Molly had me a little concerned the last few weeks as she seemed to be a little more stressed by the exercise taking more time to catch her breath.
So I decided to make an appointment with the Vet to have Molly checked out and Mick as well who had developed a 1 1/2 inch circular bump on the underside of his ear. The Vet service I've been using is a half hour away and staffed by 4 very capable Vets specializing in primarily large animals with this being farm and ranch country. You can't request a specific Vet which I don't like but these guys work closely together and are usually in the office during small animal hours so it works.
I explained to the Vet Molly had been exhibiting decreased stamina and trouble recovering from strenuous exercise compared to the other pups. At age 9 and carrying about 12 extra pounds in warm weather we agreed that there were at least some obvious circumstances anyway. But after listening to her heart and breathing and detecting nothing unusual the Vet wanted to take an x ray to view her heart and lung areas to rule out any abnormalities. These guys keep it simple and don't have a lot of staff around so that meant I had to control the button to take the x ray while the assistant and the doctor held Molly in place. Mission accomplished in just a few seconds. Molly was on her feet and I led her outside to the air conditioned van while we waited for the film to develop.
This was Micks time to come in to get his ear checked. Dr Elliot took just a few seconds to confirm Mick had a condition caused by a broken blood vessel that makes fluid and blood accumulate under the skin. This is caused by some trauma usually created as dog's shake their ears or hit them against something. The fix was to insert a draining needle and relieve the pocket of fluid. It would get better when the broken veins heal he said. Mick has other bumps and lumps we've looked at before but at age 10 is happy and hunts at his own pace always glad to be on the team.
After reading Molly's x ray and seeing everything appearing normal Dr Elliot had one other doctor listen to her heart before proclaiming her in good health relative to her age and slightly heavier than normal weight. Dr Joe just came out to the van and put his stethoscope on her proclaiming her OK as well. When I thought about it with as hot as the summer has been it really was challenging to keep them active and exercised especially when we had about 6 weeks straight of near 100 degree weather.. During the spring hatching season we walk on leash only until the birds are big enough to fly well then I start running them again which this year was mid July. But again with the heat it's hard to follow a strict schedule.
I was glad to know at another year older the process of aging was the extent of my worries on this trip. As long as I had Beau along I brought him in to show the Vet who did his leg surgery for removing a cancerous tumor that his leg was fine and free of any more indication of trouble. Just to be safe he examined Beau and said he seemed OK so we said our good byes and headed for home.
The season opener is now just 3 weeks away. I've quit scouting as the habitat is all in poor condition. Dry,mowed and plowed under. It's difficult to see it this way but we'll find enjoyment in just being together again for one more season. That's why we're here. This is our life. These moments I share with 3 of the best friends I've ever had are the best of times." Old age bumps and lumps" are just part of the journey.
So I decided to make an appointment with the Vet to have Molly checked out and Mick as well who had developed a 1 1/2 inch circular bump on the underside of his ear. The Vet service I've been using is a half hour away and staffed by 4 very capable Vets specializing in primarily large animals with this being farm and ranch country. You can't request a specific Vet which I don't like but these guys work closely together and are usually in the office during small animal hours so it works.
I explained to the Vet Molly had been exhibiting decreased stamina and trouble recovering from strenuous exercise compared to the other pups. At age 9 and carrying about 12 extra pounds in warm weather we agreed that there were at least some obvious circumstances anyway. But after listening to her heart and breathing and detecting nothing unusual the Vet wanted to take an x ray to view her heart and lung areas to rule out any abnormalities. These guys keep it simple and don't have a lot of staff around so that meant I had to control the button to take the x ray while the assistant and the doctor held Molly in place. Mission accomplished in just a few seconds. Molly was on her feet and I led her outside to the air conditioned van while we waited for the film to develop.
This was Micks time to come in to get his ear checked. Dr Elliot took just a few seconds to confirm Mick had a condition caused by a broken blood vessel that makes fluid and blood accumulate under the skin. This is caused by some trauma usually created as dog's shake their ears or hit them against something. The fix was to insert a draining needle and relieve the pocket of fluid. It would get better when the broken veins heal he said. Mick has other bumps and lumps we've looked at before but at age 10 is happy and hunts at his own pace always glad to be on the team.
After reading Molly's x ray and seeing everything appearing normal Dr Elliot had one other doctor listen to her heart before proclaiming her in good health relative to her age and slightly heavier than normal weight. Dr Joe just came out to the van and put his stethoscope on her proclaiming her OK as well. When I thought about it with as hot as the summer has been it really was challenging to keep them active and exercised especially when we had about 6 weeks straight of near 100 degree weather.. During the spring hatching season we walk on leash only until the birds are big enough to fly well then I start running them again which this year was mid July. But again with the heat it's hard to follow a strict schedule.
I was glad to know at another year older the process of aging was the extent of my worries on this trip. As long as I had Beau along I brought him in to show the Vet who did his leg surgery for removing a cancerous tumor that his leg was fine and free of any more indication of trouble. Just to be safe he examined Beau and said he seemed OK so we said our good byes and headed for home.
The season opener is now just 3 weeks away. I've quit scouting as the habitat is all in poor condition. Dry,mowed and plowed under. It's difficult to see it this way but we'll find enjoyment in just being together again for one more season. That's why we're here. This is our life. These moments I share with 3 of the best friends I've ever had are the best of times." Old age bumps and lumps" are just part of the journey.
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
The Changing Landscape
We took advantage of the cool morning temperatures today and headed out for our run heading north to check an area we often hunted in the late season. It's 320 acres of rolling hills which had been in CRP ever since I'd been around the last several year's. We hunted it late because it was lighter grass for the most part. It held more birds after the crops were down of course but even then it was a challenge to get them pinned down but loads of fun regardless. I had never seen anyone else hunt it as again the gang hunters would avoid the large expanses of grass preferring to ambush the birds in the sloughs so they wouldn't need to walk very far.
As we traveled down the gravel road we passed a bunch of cattle that had escaped their fence and further on ahead saw cattle now moved into a pasture we love to hunt for Sharptail. This Rancher doesn't over graze so there's usually sufficient cover left to hold birds. This year being drier though I'm not sure what it'll be like once he moves them out for the season. A mile further north we passed that Rancher heading down to the adjacent hay field to load round bales. That's the alfalfa we were in the other evening where we found multiple coveys of Sharptail. I'm crossing my fingers hoping he doesn't cut it again. We'll see!
We rounded the corner at the top of the hill and headed on east a quarter mile to our spot. As it came into view I was shocked but not surprised by the sight. What had been a great spot for years was now a barren field filled with round bales ultimately waiting to go under the plow and back into production. The loss of CRP is so evident everywhere we go. I pulled up and let the Setter's out and started to reminisce about all the birds we took here and those that got away. So much fun. So many good times. Gone now forever. We hunted harder last year than we ever had before and I thought to myself how glad I now was that we had put on so many miles together. It was so much fun day after day. We'll just hunt more pastures for Sharptail I said to myself. But no matter what this season will be different. The Setter's were glad to be on the ground but I could tell they knew this was not bird cover as they casually cast about in the dry grass stubble. It had always held deer as well and some Sharptail around the rock piles now without even 6 feet of grass around them.
Just the other day I had read a piece on the world population estimates for the future and what the demands for meat production will be and what it means. It was startling to think of where this production will come from. It will mean I believe that there will never be an incentive for farmers to take land out of production in the future as there has been in the past benefiting bird hunters like myself. So you can bet every available acre no matter how marginal will be actively utilized whether grazed or farmed in the future. Our miles walked per bird may increase this year but we've got some miles left on us. We'll hunt as hard as we're able in our tenth season together thinking about seasons past as we go by those places we no longer hunt remembering the times we had. Meanwhile world demand for food,global warming,ethanol production and a host of other unstoppable factors will continue to drive the transition of "The Changing Landscape".
As we traveled down the gravel road we passed a bunch of cattle that had escaped their fence and further on ahead saw cattle now moved into a pasture we love to hunt for Sharptail. This Rancher doesn't over graze so there's usually sufficient cover left to hold birds. This year being drier though I'm not sure what it'll be like once he moves them out for the season. A mile further north we passed that Rancher heading down to the adjacent hay field to load round bales. That's the alfalfa we were in the other evening where we found multiple coveys of Sharptail. I'm crossing my fingers hoping he doesn't cut it again. We'll see!
We rounded the corner at the top of the hill and headed on east a quarter mile to our spot. As it came into view I was shocked but not surprised by the sight. What had been a great spot for years was now a barren field filled with round bales ultimately waiting to go under the plow and back into production. The loss of CRP is so evident everywhere we go. I pulled up and let the Setter's out and started to reminisce about all the birds we took here and those that got away. So much fun. So many good times. Gone now forever. We hunted harder last year than we ever had before and I thought to myself how glad I now was that we had put on so many miles together. It was so much fun day after day. We'll just hunt more pastures for Sharptail I said to myself. But no matter what this season will be different. The Setter's were glad to be on the ground but I could tell they knew this was not bird cover as they casually cast about in the dry grass stubble. It had always held deer as well and some Sharptail around the rock piles now without even 6 feet of grass around them.
Just the other day I had read a piece on the world population estimates for the future and what the demands for meat production will be and what it means. It was startling to think of where this production will come from. It will mean I believe that there will never be an incentive for farmers to take land out of production in the future as there has been in the past benefiting bird hunters like myself. So you can bet every available acre no matter how marginal will be actively utilized whether grazed or farmed in the future. Our miles walked per bird may increase this year but we've got some miles left on us. We'll hunt as hard as we're able in our tenth season together thinking about seasons past as we go by those places we no longer hunt remembering the times we had. Meanwhile world demand for food,global warming,ethanol production and a host of other unstoppable factors will continue to drive the transition of "The Changing Landscape".
Sunday, August 19, 2012
Birds Birds Birds
Living in bird country for someone like myself is as good as it gets but not without it's quirks as I call them. The sport in this area has not been overly commercialized like areas of South Dakota but still draws plenty of out of state hunter's. In these small towns the business is farming and ranching of course and the attitude is "This is how we do things here". You can go faster than the speed limit,burn your tires,light off cherry bombs and M-80's right outside your neighbors window and not expect anyone to get to excited. I would add you can also drive on your lawn, fill it up with junk cars, boats and 4 wheeler's as well.
These quirks as I call them sometimes cause me to look for an escape to balance the scales. Lately I've been researching property in the U.P. of Michigan as a winter refuge close to several ski resorts. What I've come to realize is that those areas are very economically depressed and are playgrounds for people from the cities from the south and west. Property taxes in general are higher and non resident property is classified as recreational and heavily taxed giving the break to the year round residents. This is nothing new but once you really look at it it puts bird country into perspective.
My assessment is that I've found a sweet spot removed from the commercialized hunting zones with less birds but plenty to keep the Setter's and I busy. Yes there are cultural practices that annoy me from time to time but not as much as I believe living in an area surrounded by the poverty of the north woods country inhabited on the weekends by the "I've got money" crowd from the cities. A sweet spot that no one in their right mind would move to unless you were truly passionate about pointing dog's and prairie birds.
My perspective was further clarified last evening. It was time for the Setter's to go outside so I let them into the backyard around 6:30. It was a beautiful day. I'd washed the vehicles,mowed the lawn and rode my bike around town in the afternoon. Then later relaxed on the front porch while reading a book surrounded by the Setter's. Two on the couch with me and one at my feet. Beau follows me like a shadow with Mick taking his time to claim his spot closest to me and Molly waiting till she determines my movement is worth her changing her location then making a grand entrance letting me know she's joined the party.
As I was watching them head out into the yard the neighbors called over for me to join them on their deck for a drink so I splashed some whiskey over ice and headed over. Roger and Pauline laughed and joked about the Goose hunting and scouting they'd been doing with Roger now still out there but not as early in his 78th year. Wow! Then we joked about the neighbor to the west and his new used Snap on Tool truck we suspect he's going to turn into a camper. It's now parked next to his boat and old Winnebago camper that no longer is road worthy. My son Carson had reminded me that I was lucky I didn't have a "Shit Show" in all directions at least! The Setter's were laying in the shade adjacent to the deck just waiting for my return watching and listening to us talk. I said my good byes and was greeted at the gate by my crew with Beau in the lead now howling at me saying "It's about time already! Let's go for a run!"
So we headed out north of town as it was cooling off now around 7:15 or so with clear skies and no wind to speak of at all. I chose an area we hadn't checked for birds yet and I could tell the Setter's were just filled with anticipation as we traveled down the gravel section line road. This was a hay field of 320 acres surrounded by pasture and corn tucked back in off the main gravel road. I unleashed the hounds and they were quickly on scent with Molly taking the lead and on point in less than a minute it seemed. The other two dog's upon notice after finishing their business joined the "point" focused on a round area of slightly taller alfalfa about twenty feet in diameter. I went in to flush and two Sharptail went up to my left. The dog's then broke and re positioned about 30 feet away and again more birds went up those being the remnants of the covey. How cool was that the pup's would say!
That was enough given the conditions and temperature to really get the Setter's attention as they cast to the south east and over a rise disappearing from my line of sight with the exception of Molly who was working closest to me. When I didn't see Mick and Beau continue to cast up ahead I knew we had another point probably as I had last seen them heading for a rise and suspected I'd find find them just on the other side staunch on point. Sure enough as I came closer there they were both side by side pointing at the base of the rise. Molly hadn't seen them yet as we approached but with her manner's I wasn't worried about her bumping the birds and as she came within view of her mates she froze in her tracks from 100 feet away. I had quickened my pace somewhat as this was a very pretty set up and wanted to flush the birds for the pups before they ran out ahead. I walked right in as another covey of Sharptail flushed to the north. Beautiful!
The conditions were perfect for us and the birds bringing us all together at the same time and place to enjoy these moments. The Setter's could sense it as well as myself. With the cool temps I wasn't concerned about them over heating but was conscious we were in the midst of a lot of birds and knew they were working hard. We continued to the east with three more points. Two with all three pup's and Molly on a group of 4 by herself. Of course we also bumped several birds not wanting to hold as we covered the ground as well but over all I was pleased with the Setter's performance and the number of young birds we saw. I called in Mick and Molly and settled them while Beau relentlessly continued to cast about the field. He paused a few more times but couldn't pin down any more birds so eventually joined us for a break on the rise we were standing on overlooking over the area.
We were a half mile from the Jeep so I heeled the Setter's until I thought we were out of range of any birds that flew back behind us as I wanted to make it back to the Jeep before dark! The Jeep came within sight so I released the pups but not without them working one more bird as we approached with Molly taking the lead and coming to point less than a hundred yards from the vehicle. What a show!
I watered the Setter's as they caught their breath and leaned up against the Jeep taking in the sunset once again understanding and putting into perspective life in "Bird Country". On one hand there's a few "quirks" as I call them but on the other hand there's "Birds Birds Birds!.
These quirks as I call them sometimes cause me to look for an escape to balance the scales. Lately I've been researching property in the U.P. of Michigan as a winter refuge close to several ski resorts. What I've come to realize is that those areas are very economically depressed and are playgrounds for people from the cities from the south and west. Property taxes in general are higher and non resident property is classified as recreational and heavily taxed giving the break to the year round residents. This is nothing new but once you really look at it it puts bird country into perspective.
My assessment is that I've found a sweet spot removed from the commercialized hunting zones with less birds but plenty to keep the Setter's and I busy. Yes there are cultural practices that annoy me from time to time but not as much as I believe living in an area surrounded by the poverty of the north woods country inhabited on the weekends by the "I've got money" crowd from the cities. A sweet spot that no one in their right mind would move to unless you were truly passionate about pointing dog's and prairie birds.
My perspective was further clarified last evening. It was time for the Setter's to go outside so I let them into the backyard around 6:30. It was a beautiful day. I'd washed the vehicles,mowed the lawn and rode my bike around town in the afternoon. Then later relaxed on the front porch while reading a book surrounded by the Setter's. Two on the couch with me and one at my feet. Beau follows me like a shadow with Mick taking his time to claim his spot closest to me and Molly waiting till she determines my movement is worth her changing her location then making a grand entrance letting me know she's joined the party.
As I was watching them head out into the yard the neighbors called over for me to join them on their deck for a drink so I splashed some whiskey over ice and headed over. Roger and Pauline laughed and joked about the Goose hunting and scouting they'd been doing with Roger now still out there but not as early in his 78th year. Wow! Then we joked about the neighbor to the west and his new used Snap on Tool truck we suspect he's going to turn into a camper. It's now parked next to his boat and old Winnebago camper that no longer is road worthy. My son Carson had reminded me that I was lucky I didn't have a "Shit Show" in all directions at least! The Setter's were laying in the shade adjacent to the deck just waiting for my return watching and listening to us talk. I said my good byes and was greeted at the gate by my crew with Beau in the lead now howling at me saying "It's about time already! Let's go for a run!"
So we headed out north of town as it was cooling off now around 7:15 or so with clear skies and no wind to speak of at all. I chose an area we hadn't checked for birds yet and I could tell the Setter's were just filled with anticipation as we traveled down the gravel section line road. This was a hay field of 320 acres surrounded by pasture and corn tucked back in off the main gravel road. I unleashed the hounds and they were quickly on scent with Molly taking the lead and on point in less than a minute it seemed. The other two dog's upon notice after finishing their business joined the "point" focused on a round area of slightly taller alfalfa about twenty feet in diameter. I went in to flush and two Sharptail went up to my left. The dog's then broke and re positioned about 30 feet away and again more birds went up those being the remnants of the covey. How cool was that the pup's would say!
That was enough given the conditions and temperature to really get the Setter's attention as they cast to the south east and over a rise disappearing from my line of sight with the exception of Molly who was working closest to me. When I didn't see Mick and Beau continue to cast up ahead I knew we had another point probably as I had last seen them heading for a rise and suspected I'd find find them just on the other side staunch on point. Sure enough as I came closer there they were both side by side pointing at the base of the rise. Molly hadn't seen them yet as we approached but with her manner's I wasn't worried about her bumping the birds and as she came within view of her mates she froze in her tracks from 100 feet away. I had quickened my pace somewhat as this was a very pretty set up and wanted to flush the birds for the pups before they ran out ahead. I walked right in as another covey of Sharptail flushed to the north. Beautiful!
The conditions were perfect for us and the birds bringing us all together at the same time and place to enjoy these moments. The Setter's could sense it as well as myself. With the cool temps I wasn't concerned about them over heating but was conscious we were in the midst of a lot of birds and knew they were working hard. We continued to the east with three more points. Two with all three pup's and Molly on a group of 4 by herself. Of course we also bumped several birds not wanting to hold as we covered the ground as well but over all I was pleased with the Setter's performance and the number of young birds we saw. I called in Mick and Molly and settled them while Beau relentlessly continued to cast about the field. He paused a few more times but couldn't pin down any more birds so eventually joined us for a break on the rise we were standing on overlooking over the area.
We were a half mile from the Jeep so I heeled the Setter's until I thought we were out of range of any birds that flew back behind us as I wanted to make it back to the Jeep before dark! The Jeep came within sight so I released the pups but not without them working one more bird as we approached with Molly taking the lead and coming to point less than a hundred yards from the vehicle. What a show!
I watered the Setter's as they caught their breath and leaned up against the Jeep taking in the sunset once again understanding and putting into perspective life in "Bird Country". On one hand there's a few "quirks" as I call them but on the other hand there's "Birds Birds Birds!.
Wednesday, August 15, 2012
Along The Way
The pursuit of any passion takes you on a journey often times rewarding in ways you might not expect or anticipate in the beginning. When I think of the year's spent traveling with the Setter's and the places we've gone people we've met and experiences we've shared the rewards have been many. You can't put a price tag on things like this and if you try you'll never leave home,never meet the people,see the places or experience the unexpected things that make you say "Yes this is what life is really about!"
Just the other day I was working on restoring some old windows that had been painted shut when my neighbors called to me saying that our friend Fred was on the way over and I should join them for coffee. Fred lives 18 miles west and has about 2000 acres he manages like a wildlife sanctuary. He's in his mid seventies now having just sold his beef cattle and retired from active ranching life. He's a "Finlander", speaks with a slight accent and lives on the same farm he was born on. A better steward of the land would be hard to find and I admire and respect Fred for his concern and efforts to preserve habitat as well as fair chase hunting practices. Fred doesn't like coming to town and prefers enjoying the life he's made for himself on the ranch. He's got shooting targets set up outside his kitchen window and likes to shoot his 22 pistol from the kitchen table! The first time he showed me his new pistol when I stopped over for coffee he said" Just crank open that window and sit right there and shoot". So that's what we did taking turns marking shots for each other with binoculars from the kitchen table! I should mention Fred's wife left over 30 year's ago which we have in common and he has two son's who live out of the area so he's used to making his own rules. Like myself! Shooting from inside the house is one of them.
We were all out on the neighbors deck covering the usual subjects centered around hunting and bird populations when the conversation somehow segued to health care and the number of medications doctors prescribe these days. Well this prompted Fred to tell a story about "Doc Goodman" who was the sole doctor in this part of the state from 1958 through the late 1970's. Fred was a teenager at this time and was prone to catching pneumonia as he related. This was around the Christmas holiday season and every year at this time there was a party weekend when all the "college girls" were home. Fred feeling himself coming down with a bad cold was afraid he'd miss the weekend parties. So he went to see Doc Goodman explaining how he really didn't want to miss the parties with all the "college girls"and would it be possible to just get something to get him through the weekend. He said that Doc Goodman looked him over then gave him a shot of some really thick green stuff and then handed him a bottle of "pills" to take periodically throughout the weekend. "Well Hell! Fred said. " I never felt better and had so much energy I hardly slept all weekend and had a great time". But then Monday morning came and I felt like I was melting. I didn't have anymore "pills" left so I went back to Doc Goodman and said "those "pills" really worked great could I get some more?" Doc said " No son! No way! You're done now!. So Fred was left to go cold turkey but recovered from the bad cold eventually never forgetting how Doc Goodman fixed him up just like the movie stars for that special weekend with the "college girls". Doc himself was suspected of using the "medicine" to keep him going 7 days a week across country delivering babies and going from one emergency to the next year after year. It was said if you ever had occasion to ride with Doc Goodman he usually hit 100 miles an hour on the straightaways often times while reading a book!
We all had a good laugh as Fred told the story. It was a good one. He said he never knew what the medicine was nor did he mention exactly what the attraction was with the "college girls" but it certainly had his attention as a young man! At 73 now speaking with his Finnish accent bright smile and white hair standing a little over 5 feet tall it's a memory that he'll never forget. And it's a story that's definitely one of the rewards"Along the way".
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
Habitat.Going Going ....Gone.
As I've written about before the landscape changes in bird country from year to year but the current shift in land use is I'm afraid a more permanent one. There are many factors at play here mainly driven by the upward trend in commodity prices for crops. Any programs that benefit wildlife in any way will increasingly come under pressure also as the government simply runs out of ways to pay for them. As a bird hunter it means enjoy it while you can as it certainly will not be the same in the future.
The Setter's and I headed out last night for an evening run to a favorite preseason spot that usually holds both Pheasant and Grouse. 320 acres of rolling hills and a few small sloughs. This has been a hay field that usually has been cut only once a year and sometimes not at all in prior year's.
I set the hounds loose and we began our walk to the west. The field had been cut in June and the round bales were still in the field where the baler had left them. Many times in the early morning the birds will hop on top to catch the rays from the sun drying their feathers wet from the morning dew. The Setter's were glad to be here remembering it I'm sure from our trips here over the years. As I looked around the adjacent fields were in wheat and sunflowers this year. The flowers had bloomed about two weeks ago meaning the birds would head to them as a food source now all season long. They may still use the hay fields for hopper's as long as they can but sunflowers are a high value food for the birds. As we walked back through the field I noticed the slough's had been completely mowed off. I hadn't thought about this but due to dry weather this year they were dry in many areas allowing the farmer's to mow right through them reclaiming the field space from the expanding cattails. Another habitat loss for the birds. Then as we swung around to the south we came over a rise and saw a couple tractors in the field along with a mower rake and baler. This meant the field was to be cut again this year. I had hunted this spot many times over the year's and it was always used by the birds throughout the season but I guess due to the shortage of hay with drought conditions across the countryside it meant we would have to find yet another place to do the dance.
I walked a little slower after I realized we wouldn't be hunting here this year as a second cutting and no sloughs simply meant the birds had no reason to be here. I loved to hunt here as it was overlooked by the gang hunters as just marginal cover not worth the walk but with good pointing dog's was a perfect spot. It didn't hold a lot of birds but the challenge was always to just find a few then get them pinned down long enough for a shot in what was pretty sparse cover for the most part.
As we drove home we passed another similar spot we frequent and sure enough there sat the equipment ready to cut the hay a second time as well leaving virtually nothing for cover the rest of the season. I thought then about maybe hunting more federal grasslands or waterfowl production areas. But it has been so much fun to find big open spaces close to home often reminding me of just walking down the railroad tracks behind my house as a kid with my Brittany Spaniel at my side. What my friend Bernie would say is" what we need to find is a poor farmer". I asked what he meant and he said " Somebody that leaves the crops in the field to long and isn't particular about the weeds!" All things that benefit the birds of course is what he meant. But with modern farming methods and equipment even marginal land can be utilized profitably these days. Habitat. Going. Going.....Gone.
The Setter's and I headed out last night for an evening run to a favorite preseason spot that usually holds both Pheasant and Grouse. 320 acres of rolling hills and a few small sloughs. This has been a hay field that usually has been cut only once a year and sometimes not at all in prior year's.
I set the hounds loose and we began our walk to the west. The field had been cut in June and the round bales were still in the field where the baler had left them. Many times in the early morning the birds will hop on top to catch the rays from the sun drying their feathers wet from the morning dew. The Setter's were glad to be here remembering it I'm sure from our trips here over the years. As I looked around the adjacent fields were in wheat and sunflowers this year. The flowers had bloomed about two weeks ago meaning the birds would head to them as a food source now all season long. They may still use the hay fields for hopper's as long as they can but sunflowers are a high value food for the birds. As we walked back through the field I noticed the slough's had been completely mowed off. I hadn't thought about this but due to dry weather this year they were dry in many areas allowing the farmer's to mow right through them reclaiming the field space from the expanding cattails. Another habitat loss for the birds. Then as we swung around to the south we came over a rise and saw a couple tractors in the field along with a mower rake and baler. This meant the field was to be cut again this year. I had hunted this spot many times over the year's and it was always used by the birds throughout the season but I guess due to the shortage of hay with drought conditions across the countryside it meant we would have to find yet another place to do the dance.
I walked a little slower after I realized we wouldn't be hunting here this year as a second cutting and no sloughs simply meant the birds had no reason to be here. I loved to hunt here as it was overlooked by the gang hunters as just marginal cover not worth the walk but with good pointing dog's was a perfect spot. It didn't hold a lot of birds but the challenge was always to just find a few then get them pinned down long enough for a shot in what was pretty sparse cover for the most part.
As we drove home we passed another similar spot we frequent and sure enough there sat the equipment ready to cut the hay a second time as well leaving virtually nothing for cover the rest of the season. I thought then about maybe hunting more federal grasslands or waterfowl production areas. But it has been so much fun to find big open spaces close to home often reminding me of just walking down the railroad tracks behind my house as a kid with my Brittany Spaniel at my side. What my friend Bernie would say is" what we need to find is a poor farmer". I asked what he meant and he said " Somebody that leaves the crops in the field to long and isn't particular about the weeds!" All things that benefit the birds of course is what he meant. But with modern farming methods and equipment even marginal land can be utilized profitably these days. Habitat. Going. Going.....Gone.
Friday, August 10, 2012
No Shots Fired
These day's just weeks before the Sharptail season opens the first Saturday in September are some of my favorites. The weather has cooperated by trending down in temperature from July's record setting day's and now the Setter's and I are enjoying waking up to mornings in the fifties once again.
It's the change in temperature that tells the Setter's the time we wait for all year is coming once again. Our run's during these day's I love almost as much as the regular season. It's quiet. Serene. No other hunters. Just the sights and sounds of the North Dakota farm and ranch country. Small grain harvest is underway and hay fields are growing back from being cut in June as we run through them coming across Pheasants and Grouse. As I see CRP disappear I think to myself where will I find places to let my Setter's cast far and wide surfing the wind for scent. The big open spaces are why we are here. It's made for pointing dog's to work and enjoy. The answer is that we will hunt more pastures this year spending more time hunting Sharptail and Huns waiting for the crops to be harvested exposing the Pheasants and driving them to whatever cover they can find. The game for me is to watch the Setter's as they work the big open spaces. It's incredibly beautiful to me and I never tire of seeing them time and again come to a point amid this landscape of rolling hills and open spaces. That's why I don't hunt the cattail sloughs or the wooded forest lands pursuing Ruffed Grouse. I need to see the drama unfold before my eyes not hidden in the brush or in cover 6 feet tall. The bottom line is that I simply love watching these beautiful dog's work birds.
Last evening around 7:30 my crew converged on me nudging me until I got the message that it was time to head out for our evening run. The weather was cool and we'd been out in the morning as well. After refilling the water jug and picking up an ice cream cone we headed out of town with windows down and the Setter's enjoying the breeze as we made our way. Mick rides shotgun. Beau takes the seat behind me with Molly taking the opposite window. Funny how they have this worked out but that's the way it is.
I chose to run a hay field which had alfalfa growing back about a foot high now. It's directly across from a large rolling hill pasture which is never overgrazed making it usable for Sharptail as well as Pheasants. I turned out the Setter's and Beau picked up scent even before he could commence with his business. This was a funny sight as the other two were already in the process of completing theirs as they watched Beau's tail start to indicate "We've got birds here!". Beau moved on south following the scent along with Molly. Mick had to verify Beau had indeed not overlooked the birds before moving ahead as he would do with his "No bird left behind attitude". I suspected we had some birds that had come from the pasture across the road come into the alfalfa to feed on hopper's. Beau and Molly were casting about to the south 150 yards ahead as Mick worked the fence line in that direction along the road ditch. I moved in their direction keeping my eye on Mick as I don't like them working around the road even when I'm in a remote area so I was ready to whoa him if needed due to a truck coming by. After another 100 yards Mick came to a soft point along the fence line assessing the scent before moving ahead again at which time I directed him to join us heading slightly east now. As I turned to look at Beau he had come to a point on the crest of a knoll in the hay field with Molly honoring about a hundred feet behind. What a good girl she is. I never have to worry about her when working with Beau or Mick. She's got perfect manners. I choose a line walking towards Beau that would put me coming towards him from the front. I was 150 yards from them and walked casually ahead enjoying the show as they held point together. Beau's head was held high in the air denoting birds up ahead a ways. Mick had now seen the action and made his way into the scent taking up a spot to the right and slightly behind Beau. The birds were holding as I approached Beau about a hundred feet to my right now. His body was rigid and his head tilted high focused on a spot out ahead. I thought Sharptail and I was right as a group of four birds of the year flushed in a beautiful picture with all three Setter's on point watching as they chuckled their way to the north. What a sight as I thought about how rewarding it was to enjoy even without carrying a gun and taking a bird.
The Setter's continued on working the rest of the alfalfa with Beau energized by his find taking the lead and casting out 300 yards ahead to the end of the field thoroughly working the edges hoping to find one more bird. I just love watching this dog cover ground. I watched from a high point as they all eventually worked back my way coming to rest at my feet with tails wagging thanking me for the run.
We made our way to the Jeep across some short grass hills that had been gone over with a rock picker leaving holes and dents in the ground. I heard Beau yelp as he came towards me then watched him carrying his right front leg as if he might have sprained it or fell in one of these places I suspect. I checked his leg once he got to me and saw no obvious injury and he didn't seem to mind me inspecting it so we moved on. We took our time as the Setter's drank their fill of cold water and watched the sun starting to set. It was a good run. Those Sharptail had made the day for us all. No shots fired.
It's the change in temperature that tells the Setter's the time we wait for all year is coming once again. Our run's during these day's I love almost as much as the regular season. It's quiet. Serene. No other hunters. Just the sights and sounds of the North Dakota farm and ranch country. Small grain harvest is underway and hay fields are growing back from being cut in June as we run through them coming across Pheasants and Grouse. As I see CRP disappear I think to myself where will I find places to let my Setter's cast far and wide surfing the wind for scent. The big open spaces are why we are here. It's made for pointing dog's to work and enjoy. The answer is that we will hunt more pastures this year spending more time hunting Sharptail and Huns waiting for the crops to be harvested exposing the Pheasants and driving them to whatever cover they can find. The game for me is to watch the Setter's as they work the big open spaces. It's incredibly beautiful to me and I never tire of seeing them time and again come to a point amid this landscape of rolling hills and open spaces. That's why I don't hunt the cattail sloughs or the wooded forest lands pursuing Ruffed Grouse. I need to see the drama unfold before my eyes not hidden in the brush or in cover 6 feet tall. The bottom line is that I simply love watching these beautiful dog's work birds.
Last evening around 7:30 my crew converged on me nudging me until I got the message that it was time to head out for our evening run. The weather was cool and we'd been out in the morning as well. After refilling the water jug and picking up an ice cream cone we headed out of town with windows down and the Setter's enjoying the breeze as we made our way. Mick rides shotgun. Beau takes the seat behind me with Molly taking the opposite window. Funny how they have this worked out but that's the way it is.
I chose to run a hay field which had alfalfa growing back about a foot high now. It's directly across from a large rolling hill pasture which is never overgrazed making it usable for Sharptail as well as Pheasants. I turned out the Setter's and Beau picked up scent even before he could commence with his business. This was a funny sight as the other two were already in the process of completing theirs as they watched Beau's tail start to indicate "We've got birds here!". Beau moved on south following the scent along with Molly. Mick had to verify Beau had indeed not overlooked the birds before moving ahead as he would do with his "No bird left behind attitude". I suspected we had some birds that had come from the pasture across the road come into the alfalfa to feed on hopper's. Beau and Molly were casting about to the south 150 yards ahead as Mick worked the fence line in that direction along the road ditch. I moved in their direction keeping my eye on Mick as I don't like them working around the road even when I'm in a remote area so I was ready to whoa him if needed due to a truck coming by. After another 100 yards Mick came to a soft point along the fence line assessing the scent before moving ahead again at which time I directed him to join us heading slightly east now. As I turned to look at Beau he had come to a point on the crest of a knoll in the hay field with Molly honoring about a hundred feet behind. What a good girl she is. I never have to worry about her when working with Beau or Mick. She's got perfect manners. I choose a line walking towards Beau that would put me coming towards him from the front. I was 150 yards from them and walked casually ahead enjoying the show as they held point together. Beau's head was held high in the air denoting birds up ahead a ways. Mick had now seen the action and made his way into the scent taking up a spot to the right and slightly behind Beau. The birds were holding as I approached Beau about a hundred feet to my right now. His body was rigid and his head tilted high focused on a spot out ahead. I thought Sharptail and I was right as a group of four birds of the year flushed in a beautiful picture with all three Setter's on point watching as they chuckled their way to the north. What a sight as I thought about how rewarding it was to enjoy even without carrying a gun and taking a bird.
The Setter's continued on working the rest of the alfalfa with Beau energized by his find taking the lead and casting out 300 yards ahead to the end of the field thoroughly working the edges hoping to find one more bird. I just love watching this dog cover ground. I watched from a high point as they all eventually worked back my way coming to rest at my feet with tails wagging thanking me for the run.
We made our way to the Jeep across some short grass hills that had been gone over with a rock picker leaving holes and dents in the ground. I heard Beau yelp as he came towards me then watched him carrying his right front leg as if he might have sprained it or fell in one of these places I suspect. I checked his leg once he got to me and saw no obvious injury and he didn't seem to mind me inspecting it so we moved on. We took our time as the Setter's drank their fill of cold water and watched the sun starting to set. It was a good run. Those Sharptail had made the day for us all. No shots fired.
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
Prelude To A Dream
Preparation for my tenth season with the Setters is finally underway. The mild spring and warm temperatures caused the birds to nest earlier and as a result the chicks are now excellent fliers. And with most hay fields cut I can safely run the Setters without disturbing any late nesting birds.
We have been getting out either late in the evening or an hour or so after sun up. Right now a 30 minute workout is sufficient and if the weather is cooler I'll run the pups both morning and evening. It's been great to finally get back out there and while I choose areas likely to not hold birds we usually find some on every run. Exercise is the main objective for the first few weeks then by mid August we'll be seriously scouting to locate broods of Sharptail for the September opening.
So far everybody's manners are still in tact with all three pups honoring points nicely with the occasional encroachment by Mick. This is nothing new and every preseason I reinforce the rules with him and basic commands with them all. I give a whistle blast and hand signals to change direction and just a hand signal if they are in my line of sight. Two blasts on the whistle to come all the way in along with my hand pointing to the ground. Again if they are in the line of sight I can get them in by using the hand signal. It's very basic as they are all used to how we work together. They naturally cast about and work back around to me eventually so with the use of Garmin Tracking collars I eliminate any apprehension about their location if out of sight.
The landscape is ever changing and this year is no exception. Less CRP and more corn once again fueled by rising commodity prices. This will mean a challenge for the early season Pheasant hunters once again. More crops unharvested during the first part of the season will mean less acres for them to hunt with what will be lower bird populations again this year I expect. For the Sharptail hunter not much will change as farm and ranch country is filled with enough pasture and rolling hills to provide ample cover to hunt these birds. If you're willing to play the game that is! You can walk miles before you find which hill they're setting behind and if you're lucky then get close enough for a shot.
I've been enjoying meals of both Pheasant and Sharptail the last several weeks working on using up last year's bounty. Cooked properly which is medium rare both are delicious but I'm partial to the Sharptail with a little A-1 steak sauce. Wow is that living I say to myself!
All the pups are healthy at this writing as the days count down to the start of another dream season. I had a scare with Beau in June as the leg he had a cancerous tumor removed from became swollen when we were in Wisconsin. Within 48 hours the swelling abated and now the leg shows no signs of any issues. I suspect a spider bite possibly. He's my favorite dog to watch work Sharptail as he ranges quite wide and stops on a dime never pushing birds. Just a beautiful sight to see. Molly carries a little more weight during the off season than I'd like but it comes off very quickly. She's been excited to get back out in the field and is like a time keeper nuzzling my arm when she knows it's time to head out to run. Mick as I've written about previously has slowed a bit but is his same thorough and methodical self. It's a joy to watch him use his wisdom and read a birds movements. I'll run him solo most of the time from here on out once the season begins.
As I contemplate objectives for the season I think about savoring our time like a fine wine. Maybe slowing up a bit between runs. Carrying a collapsible camp chair with us. A thermos of coffee. Maybe a bottle of whiskey or a six pack of beer. I remember bringing home three puppies that all eventually ended up in my lap as I drove home. Now all of a sudden we're in our tenth season together. I want it to last forever. I want to always remember every moment. But we'll take it one day one run at a time till we can't walk anymore knowing how special our time was together. Knowing we had it all.
We have been getting out either late in the evening or an hour or so after sun up. Right now a 30 minute workout is sufficient and if the weather is cooler I'll run the pups both morning and evening. It's been great to finally get back out there and while I choose areas likely to not hold birds we usually find some on every run. Exercise is the main objective for the first few weeks then by mid August we'll be seriously scouting to locate broods of Sharptail for the September opening.
So far everybody's manners are still in tact with all three pups honoring points nicely with the occasional encroachment by Mick. This is nothing new and every preseason I reinforce the rules with him and basic commands with them all. I give a whistle blast and hand signals to change direction and just a hand signal if they are in my line of sight. Two blasts on the whistle to come all the way in along with my hand pointing to the ground. Again if they are in the line of sight I can get them in by using the hand signal. It's very basic as they are all used to how we work together. They naturally cast about and work back around to me eventually so with the use of Garmin Tracking collars I eliminate any apprehension about their location if out of sight.
The landscape is ever changing and this year is no exception. Less CRP and more corn once again fueled by rising commodity prices. This will mean a challenge for the early season Pheasant hunters once again. More crops unharvested during the first part of the season will mean less acres for them to hunt with what will be lower bird populations again this year I expect. For the Sharptail hunter not much will change as farm and ranch country is filled with enough pasture and rolling hills to provide ample cover to hunt these birds. If you're willing to play the game that is! You can walk miles before you find which hill they're setting behind and if you're lucky then get close enough for a shot.
I've been enjoying meals of both Pheasant and Sharptail the last several weeks working on using up last year's bounty. Cooked properly which is medium rare both are delicious but I'm partial to the Sharptail with a little A-1 steak sauce. Wow is that living I say to myself!
All the pups are healthy at this writing as the days count down to the start of another dream season. I had a scare with Beau in June as the leg he had a cancerous tumor removed from became swollen when we were in Wisconsin. Within 48 hours the swelling abated and now the leg shows no signs of any issues. I suspect a spider bite possibly. He's my favorite dog to watch work Sharptail as he ranges quite wide and stops on a dime never pushing birds. Just a beautiful sight to see. Molly carries a little more weight during the off season than I'd like but it comes off very quickly. She's been excited to get back out in the field and is like a time keeper nuzzling my arm when she knows it's time to head out to run. Mick as I've written about previously has slowed a bit but is his same thorough and methodical self. It's a joy to watch him use his wisdom and read a birds movements. I'll run him solo most of the time from here on out once the season begins.
As I contemplate objectives for the season I think about savoring our time like a fine wine. Maybe slowing up a bit between runs. Carrying a collapsible camp chair with us. A thermos of coffee. Maybe a bottle of whiskey or a six pack of beer. I remember bringing home three puppies that all eventually ended up in my lap as I drove home. Now all of a sudden we're in our tenth season together. I want it to last forever. I want to always remember every moment. But we'll take it one day one run at a time till we can't walk anymore knowing how special our time was together. Knowing we had it all.
Saturday, July 7, 2012
Strategies For Success
No matter what the pursuit on public lands you choose it's always a challenge to deal with all the other sportsman out there fishing or hunting. Everyone's trying to enjoy they're sport often times pursuing the same species in very different ways. I prefer to hunt alone behind my 3 setters and find running into group hunters in an area a claustrophobic feeling at best.
In a phone conversation with my son Jared recently he related an experience while fly fishing in the Mt Shasta area of northern CA. He was on a solo trip and upon arriving at the river he had chosen noticed other fisherman fishing primarily within a half mile of the camp site. We talked about how this was a common occurrence with most people not venturing far from the access point. He decided given the situation to hike upstream beyond the average distance most fisherman covered by a couple miles. What he then enjoyed was an all day experience of fishing the river to himself while seeing only one other person returning to camp at 7:00 o'clock in the evening. He was rewarded for his efforts catching numerous trout throughout the day enjoying the solitude of the landscape around him.
I related to his strategy in that the same issue exists bird hunting on public access land. Most hunters are what I call drive by hunters in that they're decision on where to hunt is most of the time based on how closely they can access the cover. With the rural areas crisscrossed with section line roads every mile for the most part this means it's very easy for hunters not wishing to walk long distances to pursue game in this fashion. So I then avoid these easy access acres and concentrate on the less obvious pockets of cover you can only access by walking greater distances than the average hunter will go to hunt. You are sometimes rewarded and sometimes not but because I'm not trying to fill a limit for a group of what often times is 4,6,8 or more hunters I'm happy just to find a bird for my dog's to work. A several mile walk for one point with all my dog's lined out on the prairie tails up and noses into the wind is priceless to me and worth every step. The objective of the group hunters is to shoot and kill birds then jump in their trucks and hurry on to the next spot to do it all over again. We pursue the same species but with very different objectives and appreciation for the sport.
This discussion with my son brought to mind an analogy I had just been thinking about before he called as I contemplated the upcoming season which unfortunately I believe will be bleak due to the loss of millions of CRP acres across the western states.
If you at random selected a group of people to walk through an art museum filled with the works of the worlds masters then recorded their observations you would get very different results. Based on our life experiences we all have a different vision of the world. So when looking at the same masterpieces some might notice the brush strokes,colors,shadows or talk about how it makes them feel while others may just say "nice picture" or "why would you paint that?" or just walk briskly through unable to relate at all to what the artists had created. And so it is I maintain with sportsman. We can all pursue the same game species in the same environment but on very different levels and appreciation of the experience.
The challenge posed to us all then is how to maximize how we as individual sportsmen enjoy the sport while sharing the same public access acres. The answer is there if you look for it but takes some time and effort to discover. And I will tell you the best laid plans can be thwarted by those that don't have common sense or respect for others. While I have numerous examples of this it's not a common occurrence thankfully. I will share just one that comes to mind that actually made me laugh and think you can't fix stupid!
I was hunting a very large pasture in a waterfowl production area that I had never seen anyone hunt. I had all three Setters on the ground casting about in search of the Sharptail Grouse I knew used this area. The Setters were birdy and I turned to look behind me as I saw a truck coming down the rarely used section line road and the driver stopped a ways past where I had parked then got out watching the Setters as they worked these birds. I heard the truck start up and the door slam shut as I watched the covey of 20 or so birds then flush wild startled by the noise. Dumbass!
My strategy is as I've said for the most part to get where you can't easily access cover which can be in itself hard to find followed by hunting late season and in weather most hunters will not venture out in when the cold and snow hits. The lower populations and loss of cover actually benefits a hunter like myself as the hunt then is suited to dog's that can cover a lot of ground looking for what birds there may be. The lower populations also mean the group hunters will find it impossible to shoot limits and may even find themselves skunked on days walking the same cover they may have been very successful hunting in the past. Those days are gone forever I'm afraid. Game farms and hunt clubs will be the only place for that type of experience.
I believe however we are a long ways from the individual sportsman who's still willing to work hard and practice "Fair Chase" hunting and "Catch and Release"fishing to not be able to have a great day in the field on public access ground and water. Basically to be successful on public access land you have to think like the average sportsman and then do the opposite. Get in shape. Scout ahead of time on your feet not on your seat. Go solo. Save playing army for the hunt club. Get up earlier and then hunt and fish longer and harder.
In a phone conversation with my son Jared recently he related an experience while fly fishing in the Mt Shasta area of northern CA. He was on a solo trip and upon arriving at the river he had chosen noticed other fisherman fishing primarily within a half mile of the camp site. We talked about how this was a common occurrence with most people not venturing far from the access point. He decided given the situation to hike upstream beyond the average distance most fisherman covered by a couple miles. What he then enjoyed was an all day experience of fishing the river to himself while seeing only one other person returning to camp at 7:00 o'clock in the evening. He was rewarded for his efforts catching numerous trout throughout the day enjoying the solitude of the landscape around him.
I related to his strategy in that the same issue exists bird hunting on public access land. Most hunters are what I call drive by hunters in that they're decision on where to hunt is most of the time based on how closely they can access the cover. With the rural areas crisscrossed with section line roads every mile for the most part this means it's very easy for hunters not wishing to walk long distances to pursue game in this fashion. So I then avoid these easy access acres and concentrate on the less obvious pockets of cover you can only access by walking greater distances than the average hunter will go to hunt. You are sometimes rewarded and sometimes not but because I'm not trying to fill a limit for a group of what often times is 4,6,8 or more hunters I'm happy just to find a bird for my dog's to work. A several mile walk for one point with all my dog's lined out on the prairie tails up and noses into the wind is priceless to me and worth every step. The objective of the group hunters is to shoot and kill birds then jump in their trucks and hurry on to the next spot to do it all over again. We pursue the same species but with very different objectives and appreciation for the sport.
This discussion with my son brought to mind an analogy I had just been thinking about before he called as I contemplated the upcoming season which unfortunately I believe will be bleak due to the loss of millions of CRP acres across the western states.
If you at random selected a group of people to walk through an art museum filled with the works of the worlds masters then recorded their observations you would get very different results. Based on our life experiences we all have a different vision of the world. So when looking at the same masterpieces some might notice the brush strokes,colors,shadows or talk about how it makes them feel while others may just say "nice picture" or "why would you paint that?" or just walk briskly through unable to relate at all to what the artists had created. And so it is I maintain with sportsman. We can all pursue the same game species in the same environment but on very different levels and appreciation of the experience.
The challenge posed to us all then is how to maximize how we as individual sportsmen enjoy the sport while sharing the same public access acres. The answer is there if you look for it but takes some time and effort to discover. And I will tell you the best laid plans can be thwarted by those that don't have common sense or respect for others. While I have numerous examples of this it's not a common occurrence thankfully. I will share just one that comes to mind that actually made me laugh and think you can't fix stupid!
I was hunting a very large pasture in a waterfowl production area that I had never seen anyone hunt. I had all three Setters on the ground casting about in search of the Sharptail Grouse I knew used this area. The Setters were birdy and I turned to look behind me as I saw a truck coming down the rarely used section line road and the driver stopped a ways past where I had parked then got out watching the Setters as they worked these birds. I heard the truck start up and the door slam shut as I watched the covey of 20 or so birds then flush wild startled by the noise. Dumbass!
My strategy is as I've said for the most part to get where you can't easily access cover which can be in itself hard to find followed by hunting late season and in weather most hunters will not venture out in when the cold and snow hits. The lower populations and loss of cover actually benefits a hunter like myself as the hunt then is suited to dog's that can cover a lot of ground looking for what birds there may be. The lower populations also mean the group hunters will find it impossible to shoot limits and may even find themselves skunked on days walking the same cover they may have been very successful hunting in the past. Those days are gone forever I'm afraid. Game farms and hunt clubs will be the only place for that type of experience.
I believe however we are a long ways from the individual sportsman who's still willing to work hard and practice "Fair Chase" hunting and "Catch and Release"fishing to not be able to have a great day in the field on public access ground and water. Basically to be successful on public access land you have to think like the average sportsman and then do the opposite. Get in shape. Scout ahead of time on your feet not on your seat. Go solo. Save playing army for the hunt club. Get up earlier and then hunt and fish longer and harder.
Thursday, April 26, 2012
The Cooler
In the 2003 movie "The Cooler" William H Macy plays a worn out ex gambler named Bernie Lootz whose chronic bad luck got him a job as a "Cooler" at a Las Vegas casino. His job was to stand at tables next to lucky gamblers inevitably casting a dark cloud on their luck. During the season of 2006 I experienced a dreaded stretch of poor shooting seemingly unexplained except for the Sharptail grouse that taunted me and shook my confidence to my very soul. I had finally met my "Cooler."
We would all experience failures shooting at one time or another laughing at being outsmarted by the birds. It's most amusing of course when it's happening to your hunting partner and not you! As we'd share the stories of each run listening to the instances of bad luck you find it hard to imagine it happening to you. You listen and laugh but when whoever it is obviously has lost their mojo and can't hit the broad side of a barn you avoid them like someone with a bad cold. Well maybe not consciously but you still think "don't get to close" for fear they might be contagious!
I was hunting 10 miles south on this morning with bright sunshine and mild winds. It was the third week of October and by mid week we had done fairly well shooting mixed bags of Pheasant and Sharptail most day's. This trip Tom,Phil, and myself had traveled together in one vehicle most days dropping each other off to hunt solo behind our dog's. I had been struggling with my shooting at times on this trip but the dog's made up for it by relentlessly finding more birds for me to shoot at.
We started this days run around some wheat stubble with tree rows dividing it. I put Mick on the ground for this run and we began walking the tree rows with Mick working the edges casting about the wheat stubble trying to pick up scent. The birds are notorious for running within this cover of course and pinning down a wily rooster here is no easy task. Finally at the north end of the run Mick had locked up pointing into the tree row with tall grass and brush about 10 feet wide. I approached from about 60 yards behind him at this point and cautiously walked past him pausing to look ahead into the cover for a shooting lane. As I proceeded into the cover a bird flushed. Expecting a pheasant I was caught off guard as a Sharptail rose slowly in full profile seemingly looking at me as if to say " Here I am catch me if you can". As I recall the bird looked rather odd maybe a little smaller and chuckled as it rose again a little unusual. Most of the time the Sharptail chuckle after taking flight a ways. Well I looked to long and obviously didn't look where I was shooting because both shots missed with the bird just casually flying away.
This came after walking up and down tree rows a half mile long. It was a nice point well earned by Mick but again squandered by my poor shooting which was beginning to wear on me. We continued our run to the west of this area along some corn stubble bordering 80 acres of CRP grass. Within a couple hundred yards Mick became birdy once again working a bird along this edge. As we crested a hill in the field I saw Mick abruptly turn and freeze right on the edge where the corn stubble and the grass met pointing to the south. I quickened my pace covering the 75 yards in short order uphill hoping to redeem myself and break out of the funk I felt myself sinking into. The bird held as I made my final approach with Mick rock solid. Then the bird burst from the cover straight ahead twenty yards. A Sharptail. The same slow rise and chuckle. The same look in the eye. I was mesmerized and again looked to long, lost my focus and missed. For all I know my gun could have been pointing straight into the air!
Now I was obviously shaken. Something was seriously wrong. This bird which had to be the same bird I had just been made a fool by minutes before had now done it again. There was just something about it that caused me to freeze up and loose my concentration. I'm afraid I had met my "Cooler".
Mick and I proceeded to work west along this edge and shortly Mick was into a stalk on a moving bird that took us all the way to the end a quarter mile moving in and out of the grass. This was most certainly a pheasant and sure enough as we crossed into the next field of corn stubble adjacent to the CRP Mick worked right towards a rock pile 40 feet off the west edge of the grass. My confidence having been seriously shaken I ran through my mind the chances I had of figuring out how to outsmart a rooster that knew which side we were approaching from. Slim was my answer. Mick worked around the west edge of the rock pile cautiously. I then lost sight of him as I was approaching from the east and didn't see him come all the way around so he must be on point on the south west side. My decision was to approach from the south east hoping to get the bird pinned between Mick and myself. As I came around the south end of the rock pile there was Mick pointing just around the corner at the pile. With one more step being about ten feet from Mick a rooster flushed behind me and to the right careening towards the CRP to the east. The rooster was very close as it flew by and I shot quickly. A miss.Then I swung through missing again!.
This had been a difficult run for me but a superb performance by Mick and I made sure he knew I appreciated it. By now I knew I had it. The dreaded curse. Like a golfer that has lost his swing I had lost my ability to shoot. But we pressed on the plan being to walk the CRP to the east ending where we started the run.
We were a little more than half way through the grass with Mick pointing a couple hens when he locked up on a slight rise. I walked cautiously up to him with nothing flushing when suddenly behind me a bird took flight. As I turned around I saw the 'Cooler" yet again taking flight in the same slow manner looking me right in the eye chuckling as he casually flew away after I shot at him twice missing of course! All kinds of thoughts ran through my mind. What did I do to deserve this? What was it about this bird that had me so shook up? Was it the slow rise? The look in the eye? And that chuckle. Was he really laughing at me?
I knew when I related this story to Tom and Phil it would be my turn to wear the dunce hat and for how long was anyone's guess. The week wore on with some improvement and through sheer determination and an excellent job by the Setters I managed to put some birds in the bag but admit it wasn't pretty at times. During that week I had to go back once more just to try to redeem myself and prove the phenomenon of the "Cooler" didn't exist only to have been beat once again by what I'm sure was the same bird. I had never seen a Sharptail quite like this one. That was enough. I never made that run again that season wanting to stay far away from the "Cooler".
The next year the Setters and I made that run and right as we crested that same hill I walked with Mick the previous season a Sharptail flushed wild in exactly the same way as the "Cooler". I watched as it looked in my direction never raising my gun as it floated south with the wind chuckling as it went." We've got a deal " I laughed to myself.
We would all experience failures shooting at one time or another laughing at being outsmarted by the birds. It's most amusing of course when it's happening to your hunting partner and not you! As we'd share the stories of each run listening to the instances of bad luck you find it hard to imagine it happening to you. You listen and laugh but when whoever it is obviously has lost their mojo and can't hit the broad side of a barn you avoid them like someone with a bad cold. Well maybe not consciously but you still think "don't get to close" for fear they might be contagious!
I was hunting 10 miles south on this morning with bright sunshine and mild winds. It was the third week of October and by mid week we had done fairly well shooting mixed bags of Pheasant and Sharptail most day's. This trip Tom,Phil, and myself had traveled together in one vehicle most days dropping each other off to hunt solo behind our dog's. I had been struggling with my shooting at times on this trip but the dog's made up for it by relentlessly finding more birds for me to shoot at.
We started this days run around some wheat stubble with tree rows dividing it. I put Mick on the ground for this run and we began walking the tree rows with Mick working the edges casting about the wheat stubble trying to pick up scent. The birds are notorious for running within this cover of course and pinning down a wily rooster here is no easy task. Finally at the north end of the run Mick had locked up pointing into the tree row with tall grass and brush about 10 feet wide. I approached from about 60 yards behind him at this point and cautiously walked past him pausing to look ahead into the cover for a shooting lane. As I proceeded into the cover a bird flushed. Expecting a pheasant I was caught off guard as a Sharptail rose slowly in full profile seemingly looking at me as if to say " Here I am catch me if you can". As I recall the bird looked rather odd maybe a little smaller and chuckled as it rose again a little unusual. Most of the time the Sharptail chuckle after taking flight a ways. Well I looked to long and obviously didn't look where I was shooting because both shots missed with the bird just casually flying away.
This came after walking up and down tree rows a half mile long. It was a nice point well earned by Mick but again squandered by my poor shooting which was beginning to wear on me. We continued our run to the west of this area along some corn stubble bordering 80 acres of CRP grass. Within a couple hundred yards Mick became birdy once again working a bird along this edge. As we crested a hill in the field I saw Mick abruptly turn and freeze right on the edge where the corn stubble and the grass met pointing to the south. I quickened my pace covering the 75 yards in short order uphill hoping to redeem myself and break out of the funk I felt myself sinking into. The bird held as I made my final approach with Mick rock solid. Then the bird burst from the cover straight ahead twenty yards. A Sharptail. The same slow rise and chuckle. The same look in the eye. I was mesmerized and again looked to long, lost my focus and missed. For all I know my gun could have been pointing straight into the air!
Now I was obviously shaken. Something was seriously wrong. This bird which had to be the same bird I had just been made a fool by minutes before had now done it again. There was just something about it that caused me to freeze up and loose my concentration. I'm afraid I had met my "Cooler".
Mick and I proceeded to work west along this edge and shortly Mick was into a stalk on a moving bird that took us all the way to the end a quarter mile moving in and out of the grass. This was most certainly a pheasant and sure enough as we crossed into the next field of corn stubble adjacent to the CRP Mick worked right towards a rock pile 40 feet off the west edge of the grass. My confidence having been seriously shaken I ran through my mind the chances I had of figuring out how to outsmart a rooster that knew which side we were approaching from. Slim was my answer. Mick worked around the west edge of the rock pile cautiously. I then lost sight of him as I was approaching from the east and didn't see him come all the way around so he must be on point on the south west side. My decision was to approach from the south east hoping to get the bird pinned between Mick and myself. As I came around the south end of the rock pile there was Mick pointing just around the corner at the pile. With one more step being about ten feet from Mick a rooster flushed behind me and to the right careening towards the CRP to the east. The rooster was very close as it flew by and I shot quickly. A miss.Then I swung through missing again!.
This had been a difficult run for me but a superb performance by Mick and I made sure he knew I appreciated it. By now I knew I had it. The dreaded curse. Like a golfer that has lost his swing I had lost my ability to shoot. But we pressed on the plan being to walk the CRP to the east ending where we started the run.
We were a little more than half way through the grass with Mick pointing a couple hens when he locked up on a slight rise. I walked cautiously up to him with nothing flushing when suddenly behind me a bird took flight. As I turned around I saw the 'Cooler" yet again taking flight in the same slow manner looking me right in the eye chuckling as he casually flew away after I shot at him twice missing of course! All kinds of thoughts ran through my mind. What did I do to deserve this? What was it about this bird that had me so shook up? Was it the slow rise? The look in the eye? And that chuckle. Was he really laughing at me?
I knew when I related this story to Tom and Phil it would be my turn to wear the dunce hat and for how long was anyone's guess. The week wore on with some improvement and through sheer determination and an excellent job by the Setters I managed to put some birds in the bag but admit it wasn't pretty at times. During that week I had to go back once more just to try to redeem myself and prove the phenomenon of the "Cooler" didn't exist only to have been beat once again by what I'm sure was the same bird. I had never seen a Sharptail quite like this one. That was enough. I never made that run again that season wanting to stay far away from the "Cooler".
The next year the Setters and I made that run and right as we crested that same hill I walked with Mick the previous season a Sharptail flushed wild in exactly the same way as the "Cooler". I watched as it looked in my direction never raising my gun as it floated south with the wind chuckling as it went." We've got a deal " I laughed to myself.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)