It was August of 2010 and the Setters and I had just finished an evening run scouting for birds when we drove by an old farmstead. I had hunted an area across the road from this place for a few years but had never seen anyone around. The cover we hunted was 320 acres of rolling CRP which held both Pheasants and Sharptail. We'd even see an occasional covey of Huns in this area as well. It was a favorite place for the Setters and I as it always held birds. Big and open with plenty of room for them to run and surf the wind. It was often tough to pin down birds in such a large area but the challenge is what made it so exciting. Seeing the dog's come to a point on birds after a long stalk here was priceless.
As I drove by I noticed two vehicles parked in front of the farmhouse and decided to turn around and find out who owned this place. Over the years of hunting around here I had admired this set up and wondered about buying it. I parked in the driveway and got out walking towards the house. The first thing that caught my eye was the Wisconsin license plates on the trucks. Then a guy came out of the house with a beer in his hand as I approached. I said hello and introduced myself to Don a Wisconsin native who greeted me with a smile and a firm handshake quickly followed by 'Wanna beer?" The next half hour was spent enjoying a beer with Don and his hunting partner Allan who gave me the tour and history of their place as well as how they ended up hunting in North Dakota. They had the place fixed up pretty nice and it even came with an old upright piano that sat in the front room. Don said none of them knew how to play piano but after a few beers someone always tried! Both guys were in they're 50's and were primarily waterfowlers having hunted the Tuttle area for years before moving farther south when they purchased this old farmstead and four acres for twenty thousand dollars a few years ago. When they explained they hunted with a group of about 8 family members I was not excited but understanding they were primarily passionate about waterfowling I felt a little better. This area was a place I spent a fair amount of time during the season and a "gang" of eight could really do some damage in short order. And from what I could tell these guys were pretty serious hunters as well as beer drinkers! Anyway I enjoyed the hospitality of these friendly hunters both Wisconsin natives and had to laugh to myself about the beer drinking and loud talking personalities. Just like back home!
From that point on I always refered to that place as the " Beer Drinkers". While I did see vehicles there the past 3 seasons at times I never did run into them again in the field or otherwise. That was just fine with me. I did however hear them shooting a mile north of where I hunted birds around a large pothole several times. But knowing they did hunt upland birds I always hunted that section during the first week of resident Pheasant season. It's a great place for pointing dog's and it bothered me to think of a "gang" of hunters walking through it just shooting up the birds. While it is legal my issue is that I don't believe it's ethical. Definitely not "Fair Chase".
It was the first week of November 2011 that I decided to make a run here with Molly. I hadn't shot any Sharptail here and thought it would be a challenge to try and locate the birds that used this area. They were always here someplace and in pretty good numbers but with sunflowers a primary crop this year bordering this half section of CRP it had been difficult to catch them out of the crop fields. I had seen a covey sitting on some round bales of wheat straw a few days ago on the west edge of this area. My strategy on this morning was to run the edges thinking we could possibly find the Sharptail before they went out to feed in the crop fields.
Molly and I started on the east end working west into the light wind right at sun up. We were moving along the south side with soybean stubble across the road. We had gone about a quarter mile when Molly suddenly eased up slowly with her head up looking straight ahead. I knew we had birds ahead. I approached Molly now rigid and walked by her slowly but nothing was moving. I walked farther now 30 feet ahead of her still standing with her head high. I knew this probably meant the birds were quite a ways ahead and sure enough they flushed all of 40 yards ahead. A full covey of 10 Sharptail. I fired twice missing both times! I watched as the birds arced to the northwest corner of the section until they were over a rise and out of sight. While I was standing there reloading another covey rose to the right of Molly about 30 yards out of range! This was another group of 8 birds that headed north as well. I was glad we had found them and Molly had done a good job of not pushing them.
We circled around to the northwest edge of the run planning to come through along the top of a ridge in the field a favorite place for these birds. The cover there is sparse and on the highest point which is a typical Sharptail preference. I was hoping at least some of those birds might have landed there. As soon as we got to this flat area on top Molly was birdy and came on point around an area of taller grass around this more open cover. I noticed her head was looking right into the grass which meant she was close to the bird and as I walked right up to her was thinking this must be a pheasant as the bird was holding unlike a typical spooky Sharptail. I walked ahead of her a couple steps and kicked the grass. To my surprise a pair of Sharptail exploded straight into the air and after collecting myself I fired on the first bird missing then shot again at the other bird to my left missing again! It was a beautiful sight and I admit I was caught by surprise when these birds held for the flush catching me off guard. I imagined Molly saying " I thought we had a deal here?"
Well we continued on my thought being there might be more of those birds in this area. It wasn't a few moments later that Molly had circled around this spot and was on point again. It was a perfect setting. Bright sun. Crisp temperatures and a light breeze. I walked ahead to her 30 yards to the east and again walked right in. It was another double! I shot and again missed the first bird but connected on the second as it arced to my right. What a moment as Molly retrieved our bird. Great job once again! I felt somewhat relieved having finally put a bird in the bag but was still feeling the need to redeem myself considering the performance Molly was putting on for me.
This high area in the run was quite large and we hadn't covered even half of it so we continued working it with Molly casting about back to the south. We had gone a couple hundred yards when she became birdy again and was making her way towards me from a hundred and fifty yards out when she locked up again. I picked up the pace running to her and got within range again walking right in to her facing to the north. This time a full covey flushed heading north and east. I picked out a bird flying straight east and it fell with one report from my Gold Label! That's how we do that I thought as I congratulated Molly once again putting our second bird in the bag.
The run gradually flattens out to the east so I thought since some of those birds had gone that way we'd head back that direction since we had parked on that end as well. Molly would have to manage the wind which was coming from the west and now at our backs but she was doing fine as she made casts out ahead of me. I had been running my Setters with Garmin tracking collars for the past two years so I just let them run freely. My pups have always been good about checking back so when they'd get out of sight I'd just check my Garmin and head that way if they didn't come around. I can't say enough about how that innovation has enhanced our experience in the field allowing the dog's to hunt unencumbered.
As I approached the east edge of this ridge just where it falls off I had lost sight of Molly for a few moments. After checking my Garmin it indicated she was 110 yards north east of me. On point! I hurried in that direction and slowed up as I came to the edge of this high ground. I then stood there trying to see if I could find her not wanting to stumble across her in the grass spooking the bird. I moved ahead a little farther and she caught my eye pointing uphill 30 yards to my left. I once again slowly moved right to her and a single Sharptail flew low and straight ahead uphill in the direction we had just hunted. I let the bird get out a ways and fired as it tumbled in the tall grass against the hillside. Molly was quick to locate our third bird and laid down now winded as we took a moment to take it all in.
I knew I had run Molly pretty hard but she continued to work birds all the way back to the Jeep pointing a few Hen Pheasants along the way. This had been a great run. So unusual that the birds held like they did today late in the season for Sharptail anyway. As I mentioned I shoot very few birds from this population every year as they are so hard to pin down with the area being so big. The points on the doubles were beautiful as the birds rose high in full profile before turning with the wind. Another " Morning with Molly" I'll never forget! Tom called me later that day to check on how we had done. When I told him about Molly's great performance on the Sharptail and my poor shooting he said "Where was that at?" "Over by the Beer Drinkers" I replied.
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Monday, March 19, 2012
Little Pieces Of Heaven
Something you learn as an upland hunter is that from year to year the areas you hunt can change dramatically. This inevitably causes birds to shift from one section to the next and sometimes even more dramatically than that. These changes are due to land use and crop rotation as well as excessive flooding and moisture.
The advantage I gained by becoming a resident in North Dakota was to be able to scout areas extensively when changes occurred. I remember for example several years ago area residents saying there were not Sharptail in this area. Upon hunting and scouting the cover I found very hunt-able populations in every direction just not where people had traditionally been used to seeing them. And in the season of 2011 it was the same with Pheasants and Huns. With the population down by 50% or more the remaining birds having spread out were not easy to find in all the usual places but again through scouting weeks in advance I was able to locate hatches in isolated pockets.
These pockets of cover holding birds were not always obvious or visible from the road. You could only find them by having your boots on the ground which for hunters with limited time to hunt could be very hit and miss. The temptation is to just drive around scanning the cover from the road or gambling if you will. My thoughts are that your chances of finding birds is always better walking behind your dog than riding in your truck. So my strategy is to know whats going on in an area as far as land use and walk it until I find what areas the birds are using. If nesting cover for Pheasants changed then where is the next closest nesting cover this year? If Sharptail are not near a traditional mating area then where is the next closest area they might use?
It was Sunday the second day of the 2011 Sharptail season. I had decided to make a run with Mick in an area where the sections to the west had come out of CRP and gone back into production. These sections had for many years held both Pheasants and Sharptail. I was sad to see the change but you just have to adapt just like the birds. As I looked at this area earlier in the year I surveyed the surrounding sections and asked the question " Where would the birds go now?" We walked some adjacent pastures in August and found both Pheasants and Sharptail so when Mick and I headed out my plan was to walk those spots. Although we hadn't found birds in abundance in our scouting runs they had to be close by I thought.
It was a sunny morning with absolutely no wind and temperatures in the mid fifties when my boots hit the ground. The plan was to walk through a mile and a half of alfalfa to the east and then cross into the adjacent pasture and head back west. This hay ground was about a foot high with several sloughs scattered about and some gentle hills. The pasture was excellent hilly cover not yet grazed this year with plenty of low buffalo berry patches and sloughs.
Mick was glad to be on a solo run and cast about through the alfalfa working the high spots. He was birdy a hundred yards in and began working towards a hill to the east. This could have been either species and as he came to point at the top of this rise I walked in and flushed a hen Pheasant. We then continued on another few hundred yards with no other birds until we crossed the next fence and Mick started working scent again casting wide circles. We had birds moving. Finally he pinned them down around a rock pile and a brood of Pheasants took flight following each other in succession. Good to know! I was really surprised we hadn't seen any Sharptail but kept moving on through the last quarter of a mile to the east end of the hay field.
Mick picked up scent again towards the back of the run and worked around in the alfalfa circling about trying to locate the birds. I kept up as best as I could but gave him plenty of room to work. The fun thing about Mick is that he'll hold his birds no matter how long it takes me to get there. He'll even turn his head to see where I'm at then sometimes will wag his tail slightly signaling to me " Yup. Got em right here Boss! " It's all fun for Mick and I enjoy his laid back attitude. Then suddenly Mick froze as he cruised the alfalfa 50 yards out in front of me. I quickened my pace and just within range a covey of Sharptail exploded from the ground straight away. I shouldered my 20 gauge RBL and brought down a bird. Nice Job Mick! By the time I reached Mick he was laying down with his tongue hanging out and one paw on the bird waiting for me. What a beautiful morning! We took our usual moment and then headed back west into the pasture.
As soon as we crossed over into the pasture I couldn't help but notice how ideal this cover was. Plenty of high spots and open cover. Grass hoppers everywhere still a favorite food this time of year. We had a mile or more of this cover to hunt and Mick started working up and down the hills. We had gotten a few hundred yards in and Mick came on point on top of a high spot a hundred yards ahead. He was right out in the open and I knew if the birds were close they probably wouldn't hold. I started to run ahead but got only 20 yards closer when Sharptail just started coming off that rise all around Mick. He was right in the middle of a large group! There must have been at least 2 dozen birds that all flushed eventually as I got closer. All still out of range.
Mick then started to cover the whole area around the rise and quickly came on point 40 yards to the north just down hill from this flush. I was able to walk all the way to him and flushed a Sharptail single from the grass which fell with one shot from my RBL. Perfect set up. We continued on in the bright sunshine with no noise except the meadow larks calling and not a hint of wind either. You would think Sharptail would be spookier without wind but its just the opposite. So we were lucky to be out on this day enjoying the best of conditions. Mick worked on up ahead and once again came on point. This time a couple hundred yards ahead on the west side of a rise slightly down hill. I walked all the way in again with Mick turning to check on me as I approached as I mentioned earlier. This is just as good as it gets is what he would have said to me. I once again went ahead to flush but nothing moved so I kicked about the grass and finally a single bolted straight west again and fell with a report from my 20 gauge. Wow! Mick had slowed down a bit in his 9th year but this was a perfect performance and a real pleasure watching him put me on these birds.
We collected our third bird and as I looked around in all directions I understood why the birds had picked this spot. Back off the road. Hidden from view but close to good cover and food. Within a couple miles of where they lived for the last few years. Just a "Little Piece of Heaven" is all they need to survive I thought. Mick and I were glad to have found it on this morning. We would return here throughout the season as well as other similar spots found only through pushing ourselves over the next hill and exploring similar "Pieces of Heaven" which became the magic of this season. It sounds odd maybe but the lower populations were a good thing for us. It was a great challenge. The Setters really had to work to find birds but that's what they're bred for and that's exactly what we did!
The advantage I gained by becoming a resident in North Dakota was to be able to scout areas extensively when changes occurred. I remember for example several years ago area residents saying there were not Sharptail in this area. Upon hunting and scouting the cover I found very hunt-able populations in every direction just not where people had traditionally been used to seeing them. And in the season of 2011 it was the same with Pheasants and Huns. With the population down by 50% or more the remaining birds having spread out were not easy to find in all the usual places but again through scouting weeks in advance I was able to locate hatches in isolated pockets.
These pockets of cover holding birds were not always obvious or visible from the road. You could only find them by having your boots on the ground which for hunters with limited time to hunt could be very hit and miss. The temptation is to just drive around scanning the cover from the road or gambling if you will. My thoughts are that your chances of finding birds is always better walking behind your dog than riding in your truck. So my strategy is to know whats going on in an area as far as land use and walk it until I find what areas the birds are using. If nesting cover for Pheasants changed then where is the next closest nesting cover this year? If Sharptail are not near a traditional mating area then where is the next closest area they might use?
It was Sunday the second day of the 2011 Sharptail season. I had decided to make a run with Mick in an area where the sections to the west had come out of CRP and gone back into production. These sections had for many years held both Pheasants and Sharptail. I was sad to see the change but you just have to adapt just like the birds. As I looked at this area earlier in the year I surveyed the surrounding sections and asked the question " Where would the birds go now?" We walked some adjacent pastures in August and found both Pheasants and Sharptail so when Mick and I headed out my plan was to walk those spots. Although we hadn't found birds in abundance in our scouting runs they had to be close by I thought.
It was a sunny morning with absolutely no wind and temperatures in the mid fifties when my boots hit the ground. The plan was to walk through a mile and a half of alfalfa to the east and then cross into the adjacent pasture and head back west. This hay ground was about a foot high with several sloughs scattered about and some gentle hills. The pasture was excellent hilly cover not yet grazed this year with plenty of low buffalo berry patches and sloughs.
Mick was glad to be on a solo run and cast about through the alfalfa working the high spots. He was birdy a hundred yards in and began working towards a hill to the east. This could have been either species and as he came to point at the top of this rise I walked in and flushed a hen Pheasant. We then continued on another few hundred yards with no other birds until we crossed the next fence and Mick started working scent again casting wide circles. We had birds moving. Finally he pinned them down around a rock pile and a brood of Pheasants took flight following each other in succession. Good to know! I was really surprised we hadn't seen any Sharptail but kept moving on through the last quarter of a mile to the east end of the hay field.
Mick picked up scent again towards the back of the run and worked around in the alfalfa circling about trying to locate the birds. I kept up as best as I could but gave him plenty of room to work. The fun thing about Mick is that he'll hold his birds no matter how long it takes me to get there. He'll even turn his head to see where I'm at then sometimes will wag his tail slightly signaling to me " Yup. Got em right here Boss! " It's all fun for Mick and I enjoy his laid back attitude. Then suddenly Mick froze as he cruised the alfalfa 50 yards out in front of me. I quickened my pace and just within range a covey of Sharptail exploded from the ground straight away. I shouldered my 20 gauge RBL and brought down a bird. Nice Job Mick! By the time I reached Mick he was laying down with his tongue hanging out and one paw on the bird waiting for me. What a beautiful morning! We took our usual moment and then headed back west into the pasture.
As soon as we crossed over into the pasture I couldn't help but notice how ideal this cover was. Plenty of high spots and open cover. Grass hoppers everywhere still a favorite food this time of year. We had a mile or more of this cover to hunt and Mick started working up and down the hills. We had gotten a few hundred yards in and Mick came on point on top of a high spot a hundred yards ahead. He was right out in the open and I knew if the birds were close they probably wouldn't hold. I started to run ahead but got only 20 yards closer when Sharptail just started coming off that rise all around Mick. He was right in the middle of a large group! There must have been at least 2 dozen birds that all flushed eventually as I got closer. All still out of range.
Mick then started to cover the whole area around the rise and quickly came on point 40 yards to the north just down hill from this flush. I was able to walk all the way to him and flushed a Sharptail single from the grass which fell with one shot from my RBL. Perfect set up. We continued on in the bright sunshine with no noise except the meadow larks calling and not a hint of wind either. You would think Sharptail would be spookier without wind but its just the opposite. So we were lucky to be out on this day enjoying the best of conditions. Mick worked on up ahead and once again came on point. This time a couple hundred yards ahead on the west side of a rise slightly down hill. I walked all the way in again with Mick turning to check on me as I approached as I mentioned earlier. This is just as good as it gets is what he would have said to me. I once again went ahead to flush but nothing moved so I kicked about the grass and finally a single bolted straight west again and fell with a report from my 20 gauge. Wow! Mick had slowed down a bit in his 9th year but this was a perfect performance and a real pleasure watching him put me on these birds.
We collected our third bird and as I looked around in all directions I understood why the birds had picked this spot. Back off the road. Hidden from view but close to good cover and food. Within a couple miles of where they lived for the last few years. Just a "Little Piece of Heaven" is all they need to survive I thought. Mick and I were glad to have found it on this morning. We would return here throughout the season as well as other similar spots found only through pushing ourselves over the next hill and exploring similar "Pieces of Heaven" which became the magic of this season. It sounds odd maybe but the lower populations were a good thing for us. It was a great challenge. The Setters really had to work to find birds but that's what they're bred for and that's exactly what we did!
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
Triple Play
As you read these stories my motivation for writing them is to preserve what are the high points,perfect moments or those not so perfect, of my life with the Love Creek English Setter's. Most of our lives are spent doing someone else's bidding so that maybe we can afford to do some of our own. And maybe, just maybe, we may be fortunate enough to experience some great moments significant enough for us to understand why we get up every day and keep pursuing our dreams. I've been very fortunate in that I've had many of these moments. Enough to fill this page and many more. As a culture we store the symbols of similar great moments as a people in museums to forever preserve them and honor those responsible. In much the same way these pages are my museum if you will. My way of preserving our life and times. They are really the sum total of our experience together. As good as it gets.
So as I look at the Setter's this morning I wonder how long we'll have. How many more days like these I've written about. How many more miles will we walk together before age catches up with us and all that'll be left is what's on these pages and in my mind. These are good times that I know in the end will be the best of times. As I look at the Setter's I don't ever want to forget any of it. And so I write on.
During the 2011 season Tom had come out the second week of November and we had decided to hunt together on this morning. Having been watching the harvesting of crops across the area I chose a run I call the Marilyn Monroe 480. Almost a full section of rolling CRP grass bordered by now harvested corn to the north and wheat to the east and west. This was such an expansive area of heavy cover it didn't get as much pressure as the smaller sloughs and pockets of cover. The gang hunters or "shitbirds" as I call them like to surround the smaller areas so they can shoot the heck out of the birds. Gotta get our limit! I prefer to hunt the birds not ambush them. And yes I believe in fair chase. I do have a sense of humor about this however as in anything there are different styles and strategies with one faction always discounting the others methods or beliefs. Let there be no misunderstanding!. I am grateful there are not many hunters out there that cover ground like I do with the Setter's!
I suggested Tom take the east edge and I'd take Molly and work the west side of this area. The wind was all of 15 to 20 mph and coming from the west under partly cloudy skies.
Molly and I headed into the grass which is quite heavy along the north side and she began working to the west edge. There were birds moving as she cast about coming to point quickly along the northwest edge. I moved ahead to flush and a Hen took flight. We turned back south and worked up around a rock pile with Molly coming to point again on a rise facing south. I was 50 yards behind her and on approach several birds started flushing wild out of range back into the CRP heading south. This field has several rolling hills which run east and west providing cover from the wind in the depressions between them. The challenging part is it's so big and when birds start moving you can really put on some miles pinning them down. I'm speaking from experience having hunted here several times over the year's with mixed success.
On this day as I walked along my guess was that the depressions out of the wind might hold birds. So we walked on and made a cast to the east a quarter mile and circled back west once we got over the first hill. Sure enough Molly got birdy 100 feet from the west edge of the wheat stubble and was working a bird. I got close as she was obviously tracking this bird headed right for the open wheat stubble. Just as she got to the edge she pointed facing north. I was within range but hoped the bird would hold for me to walk right in as the wind was a real factor today so every advantage was welcome on this day. I got right to Molly and the Rooster flushed to the west into the wind as I hoped hanging in the air before turning and I fired bringing it down! Molly ran over to retrieve and I decided we'd repeat this strategy of hunting the area's between the hills as we moved south.
We moved on heading east again over the next rise a few hundred yards and Molly picked up scent again tracking back and forth across the top of the hill and over into the next depression or bowl formation in the field. This bird was really moving about but she kept circling trying to keep picking it up as it changed direction several times. This was incredible to watch as she systematically kept locating the scent and trying to pin down the bird. I had everything I could do to keep up hoping to be within range when she went on point finally. Again this bird was headed back to the west edge of the field and the open wheat stubble. I was hoping she would get it pinned down before it reached the open field. She did coming to point 50 yards from the edge. I was 60 yards away when she finally locked up and having been following this contest as best I could was winded at this point but the bird was holding. I was able to again walk right in as Molly held steady facing west flushing this second Rooster into the wind again and bringing it down with one shot! Spectacular bird work! I hadn't let this bird get very far out before firing and was happy it wasn't hit to hard when Molly recovered it. As we took a moment I saw Tom's truck back on the road as he looked for us. Since we were almost to the back of this run and our strategy was working I decided to press on over the next rise.
We repeated the maneuver of casting east in a wide arc and then turning into the wind heading west. This time Molly picked up scent and started working the birds to the east back and forth through the area between the ridges or hills if you will. This went on for quite a while with points and relocating and pointing again only to have the birds run out. Finally after circling about Molly locked up again and I flushed a pair of Hens. We were now almost all the way to the east edge and turned back west working the south edge of this run as we headed back. Another cat and mouse game ensued with a Sharptail flushing wild in the adjacent hay field just out of range. As we came back west and turned north again Molly started working a bird again in the low spot between these ridges. She tracked the bird up and over the next ridge out of my sight momentarily. When I came to the top of the ridge there she was 100 yards ahead against the opposite side of the hill on point. This looked so much like the previous points it was unbelievable. What was more unbelievable is that this bird was holding as I made my way once again right up to Molly. I collected myself as I approached wanting to make this shot for her if we had another Rooster. I moved ahead to flush and sure enough our third Rooster took flight again into the wind falling with one shot from my Gold Label! What a text book performance I thought. Molly had handled everyone of these birds perfectly. They had all done their best to outsmart her but she'd circled and cast about never loosing them as she worked to head them off and hold them for the gun. What a run! As we walked along the wheat stubble headed back north I was glad to see Tom driving along the field edge to pick us up as we both had quite a workout.
Our success was due of course to superb bird work. It couldn't have happened without a very talented and experienced bird dog. Molly. She had handled these birds with incredible determination,drive and desire. My knowledge of the terrain led us to approach the run with a successful strategy hunting the areas in between the ridges betting the wind would make them a desired location to hold birds on this day. And they did. Three up and three down. Three birds and three shells. A real triple play!
So as I look at the Setter's this morning I wonder how long we'll have. How many more days like these I've written about. How many more miles will we walk together before age catches up with us and all that'll be left is what's on these pages and in my mind. These are good times that I know in the end will be the best of times. As I look at the Setter's I don't ever want to forget any of it. And so I write on.
During the 2011 season Tom had come out the second week of November and we had decided to hunt together on this morning. Having been watching the harvesting of crops across the area I chose a run I call the Marilyn Monroe 480. Almost a full section of rolling CRP grass bordered by now harvested corn to the north and wheat to the east and west. This was such an expansive area of heavy cover it didn't get as much pressure as the smaller sloughs and pockets of cover. The gang hunters or "shitbirds" as I call them like to surround the smaller areas so they can shoot the heck out of the birds. Gotta get our limit! I prefer to hunt the birds not ambush them. And yes I believe in fair chase. I do have a sense of humor about this however as in anything there are different styles and strategies with one faction always discounting the others methods or beliefs. Let there be no misunderstanding!. I am grateful there are not many hunters out there that cover ground like I do with the Setter's!
I suggested Tom take the east edge and I'd take Molly and work the west side of this area. The wind was all of 15 to 20 mph and coming from the west under partly cloudy skies.
Molly and I headed into the grass which is quite heavy along the north side and she began working to the west edge. There were birds moving as she cast about coming to point quickly along the northwest edge. I moved ahead to flush and a Hen took flight. We turned back south and worked up around a rock pile with Molly coming to point again on a rise facing south. I was 50 yards behind her and on approach several birds started flushing wild out of range back into the CRP heading south. This field has several rolling hills which run east and west providing cover from the wind in the depressions between them. The challenging part is it's so big and when birds start moving you can really put on some miles pinning them down. I'm speaking from experience having hunted here several times over the year's with mixed success.
On this day as I walked along my guess was that the depressions out of the wind might hold birds. So we walked on and made a cast to the east a quarter mile and circled back west once we got over the first hill. Sure enough Molly got birdy 100 feet from the west edge of the wheat stubble and was working a bird. I got close as she was obviously tracking this bird headed right for the open wheat stubble. Just as she got to the edge she pointed facing north. I was within range but hoped the bird would hold for me to walk right in as the wind was a real factor today so every advantage was welcome on this day. I got right to Molly and the Rooster flushed to the west into the wind as I hoped hanging in the air before turning and I fired bringing it down! Molly ran over to retrieve and I decided we'd repeat this strategy of hunting the area's between the hills as we moved south.
We moved on heading east again over the next rise a few hundred yards and Molly picked up scent again tracking back and forth across the top of the hill and over into the next depression or bowl formation in the field. This bird was really moving about but she kept circling trying to keep picking it up as it changed direction several times. This was incredible to watch as she systematically kept locating the scent and trying to pin down the bird. I had everything I could do to keep up hoping to be within range when she went on point finally. Again this bird was headed back to the west edge of the field and the open wheat stubble. I was hoping she would get it pinned down before it reached the open field. She did coming to point 50 yards from the edge. I was 60 yards away when she finally locked up and having been following this contest as best I could was winded at this point but the bird was holding. I was able to again walk right in as Molly held steady facing west flushing this second Rooster into the wind again and bringing it down with one shot! Spectacular bird work! I hadn't let this bird get very far out before firing and was happy it wasn't hit to hard when Molly recovered it. As we took a moment I saw Tom's truck back on the road as he looked for us. Since we were almost to the back of this run and our strategy was working I decided to press on over the next rise.
We repeated the maneuver of casting east in a wide arc and then turning into the wind heading west. This time Molly picked up scent and started working the birds to the east back and forth through the area between the ridges or hills if you will. This went on for quite a while with points and relocating and pointing again only to have the birds run out. Finally after circling about Molly locked up again and I flushed a pair of Hens. We were now almost all the way to the east edge and turned back west working the south edge of this run as we headed back. Another cat and mouse game ensued with a Sharptail flushing wild in the adjacent hay field just out of range. As we came back west and turned north again Molly started working a bird again in the low spot between these ridges. She tracked the bird up and over the next ridge out of my sight momentarily. When I came to the top of the ridge there she was 100 yards ahead against the opposite side of the hill on point. This looked so much like the previous points it was unbelievable. What was more unbelievable is that this bird was holding as I made my way once again right up to Molly. I collected myself as I approached wanting to make this shot for her if we had another Rooster. I moved ahead to flush and sure enough our third Rooster took flight again into the wind falling with one shot from my Gold Label! What a text book performance I thought. Molly had handled everyone of these birds perfectly. They had all done their best to outsmart her but she'd circled and cast about never loosing them as she worked to head them off and hold them for the gun. What a run! As we walked along the wheat stubble headed back north I was glad to see Tom driving along the field edge to pick us up as we both had quite a workout.
Our success was due of course to superb bird work. It couldn't have happened without a very talented and experienced bird dog. Molly. She had handled these birds with incredible determination,drive and desire. My knowledge of the terrain led us to approach the run with a successful strategy hunting the areas in between the ridges betting the wind would make them a desired location to hold birds on this day. And they did. Three up and three down. Three birds and three shells. A real triple play!
Monday, March 5, 2012
Flash Backs
The season of 2011 found me doing many more solo runs with the Setter's than I had ever done before. The pup's were in their 9th season so this served to allow some recovery time for them in between days we would cover miles of ground searching for the birds. Hunting sometimes several days in a row this was a necessity to make sure I always had a fresh dog available. But there were some points a couple more Setter's would have been the answer! Due to a local ordinance only allowing 3 pets per household I was capped at my crew of 3. This individual time I spent with them was really enjoyable giving me the time to observe their individual styles and appreciate each dog's strengths as we walked mile after mile across the plains this season.
Due to Molly's injury she and I spent a lot of time together as I gave her time to adjust. There exists between my crew a pecking order that determines who rides where in the jeep among other things. So when we started to run solo more I recall having to let Molly know it was OK to ride shotgun in the front seat with me as this is always Mick's spot. These were great times spending hours alone with her in the field and I couldn't help thinking about how she reminded me of my Brittany Spaniel "Ginger" who I acquired at the age of 13.
Ginger came to us from Durwood Stevens an executive at the Oscar Mayer plant where both my father and mother had worked. Durwood had been involved in field trialing with his dog's and had a litter which he had one female left from. Having talked with my mother about how I wanted a bird dog he said we should consider the Brittany. Well that was all it took and I had just enough money saved from working at summer jobs to afford my pup which for 75 dollars in 1966 was a lot of money. Durwood really went out of his way to coach me on the care and development of my pup writing me an 8 page handwritten letter outlining how to's with my dog. I still have this letter today and keep it in a suitcase with the rest of my special memento's. He also gave me a copy of a book on the Brittany in America. I remember him stopping out at our house as well if he was travelling in the area with his dog's just to check up on how we were doing. He had a 57 Chevy he used to travel around in with his dog's keeping them in the trunk. My Ginger was a shy girl to begin with and I remember him coaching me on just going for walks with her letting her build her confidence slowly and allowing her to gradually discover the cover around us. So I'd spend many hour's walking down the rail road tracks a mile out of town giving my pup the time to adjust and discover her new world.
That first season Ginger was almost a year old when my Dad and I found ourselves walking behind her as we made our way through an uncut hay field that first October. There was a slight drizzle of rain in the late afternoon under cloudy skies on this day. Ginger had been working between us when I noticed her in front of me. She was frozen like a statue just looking straight ahead. I was puzzled as I walked up to her not just being a novice to hunting but hunting with a real pointing dog! My experience was mostly centered around the stories I read in the Sports Afield magazines at the local barbershop waiting for a haircut or what I'd watch on TV when the American Sportsman was on. Even though Durwood did his best to prepare me for what I would experience with my pup as a boy of 13 I had one thing on my mind and that was of course when I'd get to shoot at a bird! So when I walked up to my dog who appeared to be paralyzed I called over to my Dad to my left 100 feet. "Hey Dad somethings wrong with Ginger!" He said "What's the matter?"My reply was "She's not movin! She's just froze over here!. She won't move!" Well my Dad came over and explained that she was pointing and directed me to flush the bird a Hen Pheasant sitting tight in the grass. What a revelation that was. As we made our way through the field Ginger pointed a total of 9 Hen's that first run. By the time we got home we knew we had a real bird dog on our hands!
In 1969 I was making a "magic hour" run with Ginger down the same rail road tracks. It was after school on a Friday. The last hour of daylight before the sun goes down. I was alone hunting Ginger along the creek that ran behind our house and out into the country. We had hunted the usual cover and Ginger had picked up scent and was tracking a bird towards a small lake fed by the creek. I was able to cross the creek to follow her as this was late November and the water had just iced over in spots enough to allow us to make our way. The sun had just set and was fading fast as I approached Ginger on point right at the edge of the frozen lake. I was carrying Dad's 20 gauge as I walked up to flush hoping for a Rooster. My wish was granted as a mature bird rose above us straight away and high over the lake. I fired and the bird tumbled down but then gathered itself and started running for the opposite bank! Before I knew it Ginger was running across the small lake after the Rooster. As she got to the center of the lake 100 feet from the opposite bank I heard the ice cracking! I got a lump in my throat as I realized if she fell through I couldn't save her. She seemed to slow up as she walked across and disappeared up the bank on the trail of the bird. I patiently stood there helpless as I watched her appear again a minute later with the Rooster in her mouth. She looked at me briefly before descending down the bank and once again made her way across the "Thin Ice". By this time the sun was gone and the moon had risen illuminating the scene as she made her way across the frozen water safely returning to where I stood waiting with Dad's 20 gauge in hand. It was a moment that makes you think someone was watching over you as it could have turned out very different. But as it was it became one of the most memorable moments Ginger and I had together. Someday I'll have a watercolor painted of that moment as it's one that will live on forever in my mind.
These flash backs of days and dogs gone by were easy to recall as I walked with Molly on our runs. Life's just a collection of moments some which are significant enough to never be forgotten or erased from our minds. I'm glad to have them and also glad someone was watching over us at times as well.
Due to Molly's injury she and I spent a lot of time together as I gave her time to adjust. There exists between my crew a pecking order that determines who rides where in the jeep among other things. So when we started to run solo more I recall having to let Molly know it was OK to ride shotgun in the front seat with me as this is always Mick's spot. These were great times spending hours alone with her in the field and I couldn't help thinking about how she reminded me of my Brittany Spaniel "Ginger" who I acquired at the age of 13.
Ginger came to us from Durwood Stevens an executive at the Oscar Mayer plant where both my father and mother had worked. Durwood had been involved in field trialing with his dog's and had a litter which he had one female left from. Having talked with my mother about how I wanted a bird dog he said we should consider the Brittany. Well that was all it took and I had just enough money saved from working at summer jobs to afford my pup which for 75 dollars in 1966 was a lot of money. Durwood really went out of his way to coach me on the care and development of my pup writing me an 8 page handwritten letter outlining how to's with my dog. I still have this letter today and keep it in a suitcase with the rest of my special memento's. He also gave me a copy of a book on the Brittany in America. I remember him stopping out at our house as well if he was travelling in the area with his dog's just to check up on how we were doing. He had a 57 Chevy he used to travel around in with his dog's keeping them in the trunk. My Ginger was a shy girl to begin with and I remember him coaching me on just going for walks with her letting her build her confidence slowly and allowing her to gradually discover the cover around us. So I'd spend many hour's walking down the rail road tracks a mile out of town giving my pup the time to adjust and discover her new world.
That first season Ginger was almost a year old when my Dad and I found ourselves walking behind her as we made our way through an uncut hay field that first October. There was a slight drizzle of rain in the late afternoon under cloudy skies on this day. Ginger had been working between us when I noticed her in front of me. She was frozen like a statue just looking straight ahead. I was puzzled as I walked up to her not just being a novice to hunting but hunting with a real pointing dog! My experience was mostly centered around the stories I read in the Sports Afield magazines at the local barbershop waiting for a haircut or what I'd watch on TV when the American Sportsman was on. Even though Durwood did his best to prepare me for what I would experience with my pup as a boy of 13 I had one thing on my mind and that was of course when I'd get to shoot at a bird! So when I walked up to my dog who appeared to be paralyzed I called over to my Dad to my left 100 feet. "Hey Dad somethings wrong with Ginger!" He said "What's the matter?"My reply was "She's not movin! She's just froze over here!. She won't move!" Well my Dad came over and explained that she was pointing and directed me to flush the bird a Hen Pheasant sitting tight in the grass. What a revelation that was. As we made our way through the field Ginger pointed a total of 9 Hen's that first run. By the time we got home we knew we had a real bird dog on our hands!
 |
| Ginger and I after a run down the tracks 1967. Just a mile out of town and we were in another world. We spent a lot of time walking those fields and cover's along the creek. |
In 1969 I was making a "magic hour" run with Ginger down the same rail road tracks. It was after school on a Friday. The last hour of daylight before the sun goes down. I was alone hunting Ginger along the creek that ran behind our house and out into the country. We had hunted the usual cover and Ginger had picked up scent and was tracking a bird towards a small lake fed by the creek. I was able to cross the creek to follow her as this was late November and the water had just iced over in spots enough to allow us to make our way. The sun had just set and was fading fast as I approached Ginger on point right at the edge of the frozen lake. I was carrying Dad's 20 gauge as I walked up to flush hoping for a Rooster. My wish was granted as a mature bird rose above us straight away and high over the lake. I fired and the bird tumbled down but then gathered itself and started running for the opposite bank! Before I knew it Ginger was running across the small lake after the Rooster. As she got to the center of the lake 100 feet from the opposite bank I heard the ice cracking! I got a lump in my throat as I realized if she fell through I couldn't save her. She seemed to slow up as she walked across and disappeared up the bank on the trail of the bird. I patiently stood there helpless as I watched her appear again a minute later with the Rooster in her mouth. She looked at me briefly before descending down the bank and once again made her way across the "Thin Ice". By this time the sun was gone and the moon had risen illuminating the scene as she made her way across the frozen water safely returning to where I stood waiting with Dad's 20 gauge in hand. It was a moment that makes you think someone was watching over you as it could have turned out very different. But as it was it became one of the most memorable moments Ginger and I had together. Someday I'll have a watercolor painted of that moment as it's one that will live on forever in my mind.
These flash backs of days and dogs gone by were easy to recall as I walked with Molly on our runs. Life's just a collection of moments some which are significant enough to never be forgotten or erased from our minds. I'm glad to have them and also glad someone was watching over us at times as well.
Thursday, March 1, 2012
Traditions
The last two year's my son Carson has joined me during the Thanksgiving holiday week to bird hunt. As we talked during his visit the subject of traditions came up. The issue we discussed is that sometimes the family traditions stop working. The purpose is supposed to be to spend time together showing your respect and mutual support for each other having been bonded together through growing up in the same extended family.
I happen to be a believer in making your own rules when it comes to traditions of any type especially having been single most of my life. This allowed me to be free for the most part of being a part of many of these " Gotta Do" get together's. So you can imagine what my advice was on this subject! Now I have been a guest of families over the year's that truly do gather to show respect and support for each other and would classify these families as "Close". On the flip side I've been a part of families that fail the test on the true reason for observing these traditional get together's. Word's to describe these groups would be dysfunctional or simply not "close". That's fine. We're all different. No problem except you have to make a decision about how you use your time around these holidays. After all it's your time and your decision always.
So no excuses then about these holidays. After all why should you year after year spend time around people you may not respect,have nothing in common with, who drink to much or just can't stop talking about themselves. It just doesn't make good sense. It's sort of like watching some mindless dribble on TV because that's all that's on! It's just not logical!
A couple of the traditions I established for myself over the year's were to fish Love Creek from beginning to end,a several mile trek,on Easter morning. This was an exhilarating experience being out in the woods on the dawn of spring time. A real celebration of life! And that's what it meant to me. Another was to start the Sharptail season "West of the Windmill" 8 year's in a row to celebrate the start to another season in this beautiful place the Setter's and I had so many great times together.
I remember one of the families I was a frequent guest of over the year's had a birthday tradition of roasting the birthday person while they had to eat the first piece of cake in total silence. Each family member would take turns making jibes and barbs trying to make the birthday person laugh! You see as the tradition goes you only get your wish if you remain silent! It was great fun to watch. This bunch were real practical joker's as well. What I would call a "close" family.
For many year's if my son's weren't with me on Christmas day I'd go skiing by myself. On one of these outings it was a bright sunny day and the snow was great as I recall. I loved this tradition. It was a great way to spend the holiday for me. I was riding up the chairlift with a young boy about 10 year's old just talking about the snow and as we exited the chair we both said have a good time. Then as I was skiing away I heard him yell "Hey Mister!" I turned around and he looked at me and said " Merry Christmas!" I'll never forget that. It was a true positive sentiment from a kid to young to misunderstand it as anything else. Real and meaningful.
Another tradition I was invited to take part in over the year's was the Dukelow fishing trip to Canada. This was a group of longtime friends that gathered every year for over twenty year's to share each other's friendship while fishing in Canada. It was an event where the father's then invited their son's to attend as well. My son Carson and I were invited to come along and it was a fun experience with all the ritual and activities of any nationally observed holiday. By that I mean the card playing,fishing contest's,wall of fame ceremony,shore luncheons,golf driving contest, and of course the happy hour which was pretty much every hour! Good friends. Good people. Good times! This was a "close" family of friends.
Another tradition I engaged in a few year's was to travel to Goodman after my folks had retired to wish my Dad a happy birthday. I'd show up unannounced. No gift. No card. Just a surprise. My Dad really liked this because it was the time I took that meant something to him. After all it's the most valuable thing we all have to give each other.
So it's different for everybody. How you view traditions I mean. For me an experience shared is meaningful. Being able to connect with people is the objective. Walking away with some understanding about your relationship to each other. Understanding and appreciating it's value and most importantly how to contribute to it and make it grow as year's pass.
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| Carson with Molly and Beau. Thanksgiving 2011. This was a great way for us to spend the holiday. As we hunted together we each got a glimpse into each others world for a while as we walked behind the Setter's. |
I happen to be a believer in making your own rules when it comes to traditions of any type especially having been single most of my life. This allowed me to be free for the most part of being a part of many of these " Gotta Do" get together's. So you can imagine what my advice was on this subject! Now I have been a guest of families over the year's that truly do gather to show respect and support for each other and would classify these families as "Close". On the flip side I've been a part of families that fail the test on the true reason for observing these traditional get together's. Word's to describe these groups would be dysfunctional or simply not "close". That's fine. We're all different. No problem except you have to make a decision about how you use your time around these holidays. After all it's your time and your decision always.
So no excuses then about these holidays. After all why should you year after year spend time around people you may not respect,have nothing in common with, who drink to much or just can't stop talking about themselves. It just doesn't make good sense. It's sort of like watching some mindless dribble on TV because that's all that's on! It's just not logical!
 |
| Fishing Love Creek on Easter morning was a tradition I really enjoyed. Seeing the woods coming alive and maybe catching a few trout as well was inspiring. |
A couple of the traditions I established for myself over the year's were to fish Love Creek from beginning to end,a several mile trek,on Easter morning. This was an exhilarating experience being out in the woods on the dawn of spring time. A real celebration of life! And that's what it meant to me. Another was to start the Sharptail season "West of the Windmill" 8 year's in a row to celebrate the start to another season in this beautiful place the Setter's and I had so many great times together.
 |
| Taking a break on a run "West of the Windmill" |
I remember one of the families I was a frequent guest of over the year's had a birthday tradition of roasting the birthday person while they had to eat the first piece of cake in total silence. Each family member would take turns making jibes and barbs trying to make the birthday person laugh! You see as the tradition goes you only get your wish if you remain silent! It was great fun to watch. This bunch were real practical joker's as well. What I would call a "close" family.
For many year's if my son's weren't with me on Christmas day I'd go skiing by myself. On one of these outings it was a bright sunny day and the snow was great as I recall. I loved this tradition. It was a great way to spend the holiday for me. I was riding up the chairlift with a young boy about 10 year's old just talking about the snow and as we exited the chair we both said have a good time. Then as I was skiing away I heard him yell "Hey Mister!" I turned around and he looked at me and said " Merry Christmas!" I'll never forget that. It was a true positive sentiment from a kid to young to misunderstand it as anything else. Real and meaningful.
Another tradition I was invited to take part in over the year's was the Dukelow fishing trip to Canada. This was a group of longtime friends that gathered every year for over twenty year's to share each other's friendship while fishing in Canada. It was an event where the father's then invited their son's to attend as well. My son Carson and I were invited to come along and it was a fun experience with all the ritual and activities of any nationally observed holiday. By that I mean the card playing,fishing contest's,wall of fame ceremony,shore luncheons,golf driving contest, and of course the happy hour which was pretty much every hour! Good friends. Good people. Good times! This was a "close" family of friends.
 |
| "The Dukelow and Friends" tradition. A great example of how to create meaningful ways to celebrate friendships. And as the saying goes what happened in Canada stayed in Canada! |
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| The "Shack" at Ten Acres. A sight my Dad would view every day as he drank his morning coffee. When I'd arrive unannounced on his birthday he really enjoyed it. It was the time that was most important to him. It meant something. |
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| Carson and Molly Thanksgiving 2010. We braved the single digit temperature to spend this time together we both won't forget to soon. It was about much more than just the hunting. My example to share was about the possibilities life holds for you if you so chose them. It's not always about money. Happiness I mean. |
So it's different for everybody. How you view traditions I mean. For me an experience shared is meaningful. Being able to connect with people is the objective. Walking away with some understanding about your relationship to each other. Understanding and appreciating it's value and most importantly how to contribute to it and make it grow as year's pass.
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