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.
Monday, October 22, 2012
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".
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