Montana Journal 2007

                                        The first couple of day's at the ranch we explored various types of cover eliminating those which weren't at that time holding birds. Since this was such a huge area with diverse terrain this was no easy task except maybe for the sections that were farmed which were on more level ground. We expected to find more birds around these agricultural areas but that just was not where they were.  Instead we kept finding birds around the higher ground and brushy patches in the foothills. Now we were at about 4500 feet in elevation then add to that the big rolling hills and steep grades and this was the toughest hunting I had done so far. Not to mention the thorn covered brush most of which you couldn't walk through and some of which you had to crawl through at times. This would of course get you no sympathy from the dog's! They were like " Hey welcome to our world!" Now the great thing about this high country was that there was water all over. You'd be walking along and there would be rivulets of water seeping out of the hills and running through the patches of brush. The cattle of course had worn trails through these areas which you sometimes could follow. Then there were dry dams up high creating pools of water for the cattle throughout these areas all made possible by the water making its way down from the mountains through the water table. This was great for the dog's as well as the wildlife with lots of green vegetation growing around these wet areas. The brushy areas offered great protection for the birds as well as an ample supply of food and water. We avoided the large sections as it was just impossible to get the birds out although the dog's knew they were there. The brush was so thick the dog's learned quickly not to even try to go in. But sometimes I'd have to if a dog was on point or to retrieve a bird a dog couldn't get to. My western Style hat with it's 3 inch brim proved invaluable when going through the brush as it kept the branches and thorns from scratching and cutting my face. Being 100% pressed beaver the stiffness of the hat wasn't fazed by the obstructions and offered excellent protection from the sun as well.
                                     We had hooked up with Stan who was nice enough to take time from his busy schedule to show us a few things and explain a little more of the story behind the ranch operations. We had a couple of questions as well. The two things we were puzzled about were the dead deer we would see in the fields as we came out to the ranch and the stray horses wandering about along the road some of which looked pretty rough. Stan explained that "This is the reservation fella's". The Crow Indians have the right to shoot wildlife as they wish and the deer you see are shot for sport and left to rot. You won't see the Indians out during the day usually but after dark they come out and just cruise the area looking for animals to shoot usually from vehicles just for fun. The horses are owned by Indians as well. They let them run loose and will often just open someone's pasture and let their horses in to graze but mostly they are just left to fend for themselves. Neglected. We were advised to be careful to keep our vehicle locked at all times and if we did run into any Indians not let them intimidate us by claiming we were trespassing or some such other bullshit. They were known to intercept hunters in the mountains hunting deer and elk on federal land then demanding the game and rifles be given to them for trespassing. Everyone we talked to at some time or another remarked about the inequities of the reservation culture and not in subtle ways. My take is that there are good people everywhere of all different races but there are also those that waste and squander the opportunities we all have when born into this world. Or in simpler terms no race or culture has a monopoly on dumb asses! But we were here to bird hunt!
                                   The early days of this ranch read like something out of an old western. Originally known as the Antlers ranch it had always been a cattle operation which grew as more and more land was acquired. There were tales of family disputes and water right squabbles then deals made with the Indians for grazing rights. The fairness of acquisitions being scrutinized along the way. The Indians for the most part had no use for the vast tracts of grazing land and traded remote sections for small pieces close to utilities and roads they could just live on. The irrigation canals were all put in by hand through the labor of Chinese immigrants. Miles and miles of canals diverting water from the Little Horn river that runs through the ranch all gravity fed. Stan took us along the river and showed us where we could see the trout just schooled up in the  cold mountain fed river. But we were here to bird hunt!
                                     It was great to have the back round on the property and we remarked at how organized and well kept everything was from the buildings to equipment and fences. Stan had explained the current owner had taken great pride in the operation of all his ranch properties and follows them closely expecting the attention to detail we had noticed. Nothing out of place and not a spot of trash anywhere. It was a great privilege for us to hunt in this beautiful setting. And we knew it.
                                      It was mid morning when we decided to head north of the ranch into the hills about 3 miles. It was a sunny day with temperatures quite mild at around 45 degrees. Tom had decided to take a run that wound back down to the valley floor and then hunt the opposite side of the ravine on the way back up. However as we would learn distance is sometimes hard to gauge in this country with it's big hills and steep grades. Looking across the landscape from a high point was deceiving as you couldn't see what was in between. I had chosen to go east and hunt along a ridge where we had first seen the Sharptail. I had about a half mile to walk from where we parked the truck to begin my run and had plenty of water for myself and I knew there was water throughout this area for the dog's. So we were off.
                                        I had chosen Molly and Beau for this first run of the day which would take me about a mile and a half east to the next pasture fence with plenty to hunt there and back. We got to the ridge and started working the brush sections along the face of the ridge. The dog's got very birdy several times but as I suspected the birds were just running around us in the brush. These two dog's were working very well together though and staying in close proximity due to the cover. I could see them as I walked the upside of the brush and would come down when I saw them get birdy. When we got away from a large section of this cover we finally got a bird pinned down in a narrow finger of this thick cover. Molly was in the lead with Beau backing alongside both looking into the brush about 30 feet wide at that point. I walked ahead right at the edge of the brush and took my boot and bent the bushes to make noise. It worked as I heard a bird fighting its way upward. A Rooster emerged going straight up before getting his bearings and I took the easy shot with my Gold Label as he was about to turn south with the wind. However the Setter's were not interested in going in after him so I fought my way through the thorns and retrieved my bird. I continued on east along the low side of this cover hunting the smaller pockets. Just about to the end of the run a covey of Sharptail had flushed out of range so I decided to head up top for the walk back hunting a flat pasture area along the ridge. Halfway back the dogs started working a bird along the very edge of the ridge which a had a steep slope to the brush below. To keep pace I was up and down as they worked the scent then finally just decided to walk the top and take my chances once they pinned the bird down. And that they did about 75 yards ahead. I could see Molly pointing on the edge at an angle to the brush. I couldn't see Beau but assumed he was probably close by. I was able to get there quickly hurrying along on top but then trying to get down the very steep bank to flush was going to be tricky. I didn't have too! I got just behind Molly when the Rooster again came out of the brush high and fell with one shot as it turned south. A beautiful job by the Dog's! Beau had been just inside the brush to Molly's left A truly gorgeous picture off the side of this ridge line overlooking the valley below. Molly was quick to locate and recover the bird having fallen 30 feet away in the brush. I collected the pups and took a break up top before heading west again.

Molly pointing a Rooster in the brush below 

                                          I then decided to get away from the brush and hunt the open pasture grass letting the dogs and myself take a break from the steep grades and tortuous thorn bushes. I had had to go on my knees a couple of times trying to get from one section of brush to another so far. But these two had done well with Molly's tracking ability and Beau's superb nose. They were now casting about in the big open space on top. We headed a little north and I decided to cross into the next pasture. What I saw was another ridge to the north with the same cover going east to west. Another great run for later. About where we were to make our circle back south the dog's started picking up scent going into the wind with Beau out front. We had birds up ahead. This most likely was Sharptail and I was right. The pups locked up right out in the open about 50 feet apart. As I approached a single flushed out of range. I kept walking as a dozen or more birds took flight taking a shot on a double closest to me and bringing down a bird to my right. Nothing I like more than this type of open range hunting. There's just nothing like watching your dog's work the open cover and then seeing the birds take flight in front of you. We took our usual moment to gather ourselves and headed in line with the truck a mile away.
                                           I had chosen a run with the return being downhill but given that it was still a hike. I had left Tom about 10am and it was now a little after 1pm. I refreshed the dog's water and let Mick out brushing the burrs from their coats. A snack was in order as well so I got something to eat and drink as I kept looking for Tom off in the distance to the west. It was almost now 2pm and there was no sign of him so I took off my boots and aired out my socks as I continued to wait. And wait. And wait. I was getting concerned as 3pm rolled around. Tom is a pretty big guy carrying a little more extra weight than myself and a heavy smoker. I knew he was challenged in this terrain and my mind started thinking what if's meaning did something happen to him. I kept my eyes fixed on the spot he'd come out of about a half mile down a steep grade. Then I thought I spotted something moving. It was one of Toms dog's just a speck against the hillside. Then a couple minutes later I saw him head down laboring slowly forward. I got out of the truck and waved to get his attention concerned he was in trouble and he started waving me to come down. I walked ahead and picked out a line and started down the steep grade with the truck hoping we could get it back up.

Waiting on top for Tom

 I got to the bottom and got out and Tom just went to the truck and got water guzzling down almost a bottle in one shot. He hadn't taken water he said and the grade coming back up was steeper than he thought. At one point he said he was about to get down on his knees and drink with the dog's out of the ditch! He had gotten several shots at birds and had gotten one Rooster. We loaded up and put the excursion to the test making the steep grade back up on top.

Tom coming out of the bottom
There was definitely some black smoke coming out of the exhaust pipe!

                                           There was a lesson learned here and we were a little more cautious as we went along about the runs we chose. And taking water. Even though the altitude was not extreme it was still a factor especially for Tom. We laughed about it but this terrain could kick your ass pretty easy. I had told Tom about the other ridge I had seen to the northeast so we headed across the pasture and went through the next gate to the east for the final run of the day.
                                            Tom took the north side of this area and I went south along the side of the ridge. It was Micks run. We were working kind of a trough formation between the two ridges and Mick started working a bird. There was a lot of greenery around a waterway that eventually fed into a dry dam and this bird was following along the overhanging brush. Mick had been on this trail for quite a while without stopping just working back and forth and in and out of cover. Then we got to the where the water was backed up and the Rooster flushed wild and up to the right but not far. Maybe a hundred yards. We headed for the brush line where he landed and Mick started up again tracking about. Then he crossed the fence into bare ground and I thought shoot this is where it ends because it was just a big open area. Well Mick continues just circling knowing this bird had gone this direction. Round and around. Finally he picks up the scent and zigzags ahead. I'm getting really tired of this cat and mouse game by now but it's quite a show he's putting on here. Were headed for a bowl of grassy cover with some scrub trees about 50 yards ahead as the only possible cover the bird could have taken. Mick is still intent on working this bird so I stand and watch as he try's to find this bird. He works the area but can't find the bird. I start to head off in the direction of the truck looking over my shoulder occasionally thinking we'd been beaten by this Rooster. I look back again and Mick's 150 yards from me on point! He's at the edge of the cover pointing into the scrub trees. I'm tired  and sweating but turn and start to run as carefully as I can through the cover. I start gauging the closing distance in case I have to shoot. 100 yards.75 yards.50yards. My hearts beating out of my chest as I come within range and I slow down and keep steadily moving ahead trying to control my breathing. Then I'm there. Looking at Mick steady. Rock solid. Looking straight ahead. I'm beside him as I step forward into the brush and the bird rockets to the top of the trees and drops with a report from my Gold Label. A perfect moment as Mick moves in to recover his bird. Incredible. What an incredible job. Such perseverance. On Mick's part of course. This had gone on the better part of a half mile before he finally got this bird pinned down. Needless to say it was a humbling experience for me. I definitely took a lesson from Mick on that one! Thanks Mick!

It was a good day.

                                     Tom had gotten into Sharptail and had picked up 3 birds. So we had a nice mixed bag of Pheasants and Sharptail. We cleaned birds on the ridge as we reviewed plans for the next day.. It was a good day. Different terrain made hunting the birds really a challenge but in a good way and the Big Horn mountains as a backdrop made it so beautiful.