So Long November

              Everyone waits all year for fall to come and with it the anticipation of season openers. For me these days mean something different. More people. More hunters. The stark reality that every year all of them are competing for opportunities to hunt less and less quality habitat. So what do I wait for? November.

Early November as the snow geese start moving in.

              This period of time is when the overwhelming majority of hunters give up upland pursuits for another year and focus on stuffing their pie holes in front of the big screen. Seconds anyone? Need another beer? I wait all year for these days. Suddenly it's quiet in the field. Out of state license plates become scarce. As we walk along I pick up trash when ever I can. Spent shells, plastic soda bottles, candy wrappers and beer cans, These are blemishes I quickly tuck into my pouch. I wonder what people were thinking. The answer is they weren't. The walks we take are often times chosen because we can keep boots on the ground for long periods of time in one area. We hunt it all. We're not cherry pickers hopscotching the countryside. There are birds in every square mile but where and at what time is the question. November is best suited for these needle in the haystack pursuits. We load up and I say, " Lets go find a bird". The fall field work changes the opportunities daily. The corn harvest reveals what no one could have anticipated in October.

Following the harvest and hunting the edges.

               Day after day I experience incredible shooting rotating through my inventory of favored runs. We are alone out here. The only sounds are of geese and ducks moving overhead as we walk mile after mile sometimes breaking for lunch other times just carrying on checking here and there for what the harvest has revealed. My setter Beau rides along and waits patiently as we hunt. He's approaching 14 now and doesn't like being left alone. I enjoy the look on his face knowing he gets to load up in the Jeep once again. My lab pup just turning 18 months makes progress with every bird contact. I can see the changes in her as she adapts to our routines. Her development has been a journey for both of us. She's leading quite a life working birds day after day. Despite the challenges she faces learning to control her exuberance I laugh every day at her efforts to get it all right. Sometimes we do and sometimes we don't. No worries. We'll just keep walking into the wind. November's good for that too.

B at 18 months on one of those November days we got it all right.

               Early fall was warmer than normal so the birds had no reason to use heavy cover. They lived in the unharvested crop fields leaving people to question their numbers. That's a good thing. In November this pattern is broken by changes in weather and the field. Suddenly the wind has a bite to it and the sky turns grey more than blue. First ice forms. These are days for real hunting. Occasionally you will see gang hunters on weekends driving around more than hunting. I think to myself why haven't they discovered what this is really about? So it goes as they pass on their version of reality to their children. I flee at the sight of them. Some days I shoot only one bird and am thrilled to have experienced taking that bird in beautiful surroundings one on one. Fair chase. Those are good days indeed. Then we go again the next day and the next looking for those perfect moments. My pup has taken to bringing me my boots if she thinks I'm slow to get ready. November is the month to be thankful for indeed.

Beau poses on a classic November day in his 14th year. I'm incredibly thankful for my time with this dog.

             While there are no limits on perfect moments they are fulfilling. They can be very different by definition and not always culminate in the taking of a bird. Beautiful points, flushes and days your pup gets it all right. Tracks in the mud and snow letting you know a population is alive and doing well. November is special in all these ways because we know it won't last much longer so every day becomes more precious as time passes. We watch the forecast wondering when the hammer will drop because it always does sometimes more dramatically than others. The Jeep needs a cleaning inside after weeks of hunting. I try to keep it organized but it's a battle. Gear changes from day to day in and out. Mud and feathers everywhere. Water jug, shell case and skunk kit packed in between the dog kennel and my waders. Extra gloves,socks...somewhere. A spare whistle hangs from the mirror. I know it's all going to end soon. November that is. How will I feel? Lucky knowing we were here one more time!

So Long November!

             

These Days

While walking day after day over the last decade with my bird dogs it's given me time to pause and reflect on the world around me. The world that sometimes seems so far from my daily existence and experience. But that's no accident instead a conscious decision to immerse myself in this life that's allowed me to survive as well as could be possible. That's given the hurdles of growing older while trying to remain true to my passion for this sport. This time for reflection I discovered long ago is essential to my piece of mind and well being.

Now 5 days into the season of 16 pheasant hunt I've had a couple great days then just a couple nice walks with my dog and one filled with multiple failures leaving me humbled by realizing being another year older has it's limitations.

Yesterday my 16 month old pup and I hunted a beautiful area of heavy cover around several small pot holes. These early runs are half hunt and half reconnaissance often times just figuring out how these runs will play out as the season and harvest moves on. It was 38 degrees under full cloud cover and felt like it could snow anytime. I loved just breathing the cool air with ducks and geese moving around us everywhere. My pup was happy she got me out for this late afternoon hunt skirting the edge of cattails until she would come upon scent. It's taken a few runs for her to remember what this pheasant game is like you see. I hunted her extensively last fall as soon as she was broke to the gun something many people wait to do but I'm a believer in starting pups early.

B at 6 month's

 On this day I could tell she was getting dialed in checking back nicely when asked and stopping when locating birds. Progress on all fronts. Surrounded by soybeans already harvested and with corn within the next mile I knew this would be a late season area again but should still have a few birds now probably.

So as we walked I accepted the reality of what was available cover although low on my preference list it is what it is. You see for more than a decade I would never hunt cattail and heavy cover with the setters instead covering the open grassy areas adjacent to harvested crop fields. With CRP now gone in most areas we hunt whats left these days. I enjoyed seeing my pup work birds and cornering two roosters who easily had the upper hand in this environment. Even though bird numbers are down again we always see roosters on every run sometimes getting an opportunity to take a bird and sometimes not.

Walking along I savored this performance my pup was putting on learning with each bird and coming to understand how to hunt together. I thought a lot about what my ability being a year older means and how to keep enjoying our time together. Perspective changes as we change. It's the same with habitat and bird numbers. We enjoyed this hunt being with each other. No one else in sight with
the feeling of snow coming soon.

Arriving back at the Jeep with an empty game bag was no indicator of the success of this days hunt. "These days" I'm grateful to still be out here in these beautiful places where I can make sense of things in my own way. Watching this young dog discover how to play this game with such desire took me back to the early days with the setters as we walked along. As I looked at my watch I had thoughts that maybe we could make another short run someplace but then felt the ankle I broke in March tightening a bit and instead slowly drove down the section line enjoying the ride.

The Sentry

Every year I make my way through my inventory of favorite grouse runs. I return to some in hopes of experiencing incredible moments of days gone past. This is a story of one such place. A moment in time to never be forgotten but serving as a reminder of just how special it is walking through this country where sharptail grouse have endured the harsh climate to raise broods year after year.

A decade ago I discovered a 2 square mile area that had everything sharptail needed in abundance. A mix of rolling hayfields with high hills surrounding it along with crop land and federal waterfowl production acres. Plenty of nesting, food sources and winter cover.

This population was more predictable in some years than others depending on crop rotation in the early season. The years when the 320 acres of crop land in the center of the area was alfalfa used by birds to raise their young provided incredible opportunities for the setters and I. When it turned to crops making the birds less accessible the game became more difficult but the birds were always there someplace within that 2 square miles.

During one of those tougher years the setters and I had searched to the far south side for the birds on high ridges around a waterfowl production area. We headed on a line for the highest point I knew had a cluster of buffalo berries at the very top. A vantage point I also knew would be a favored spot. The setters became birdy as we approached with Mick going on point first just off the crest of the hill. I gave it everything I had in me to catch up and get on top making it just to the edge when the most beautiful flush of a covey I had ever seen took flight. Birds ascended in a circle around me going straight up and then looking down at us the intruders. I made my choice and took one bird from what was a dozen or so and watched the rest fly out over the landscape. Incredible I thought knowing that moment would be one I'd never forget seeing those birds in full display rising from a place only sharptail would be. There's no doubt they watched us from afar as we approached. In the early season you just sometimes get lucky and get close enough as we did on this perfect day.

Yesterday the 8th day of the season of 16' I made that walk again as I have every year since hoping to see a covey flush from that same spot. It's still unchanged. The same circle of buffalo berries around a small rock pile. Off to the right is a lone bush surrounded by more rocks. It's about 6 feet tall and last year as we approached I saw a lone sharptail with it's neck extended feeding on berries. I stood and watched and then walked in until the bird flushed within range but declined the shooting opportunity content with seeing the "sentry" no doubt guarding this special place. So on this day as we approached again a lone bird flushed from the same bush and I was content once again with the "sentry" reminding me of that special moment I'll never forget.

The 7 Year Itch

This September marks my 7th year as a North Dakota resident. I first started hunting here in 2004 and quickly fell in love with the beauty of the wide open spaces. It didn't take long then to figure out this was also a great place for a bird hunter to retire at age 55. Plenty of time left to enjoy my lifelong passion for hunting with pointing dogs.

Living where the birds live has had it's benefits no doubt about that. Having lived in and around rural areas most of my life it was an easy adjustment but every local culture is different. With such a sparse population it doesn't give people much of a perspective at times as to what should be acceptable social behavior. People are more likely to just ignore the oddball or occasional (and sometimes regular) disturbances the local idiots cause. However if they're within your eyesight or hearing it's you're bad luck! You see with everyone likely related in some way complaining or expecting a ticket be given is sometimes not worth the price of being shunned by your extended family sums up the problem.

Such are the burrs under my saddle as I shake my head at what would never be accepted in the other world I used to live in. So these days I find myself increasingly having to count my blessings and reminding myself of the benefits of this world. Access to some beautiful bird country and wild birds for my dog's to work just minutes away. Affordable housing and lower taxes. I didn't move here for the social life certainly but over all these people of German descent are a friendly enough bunch. They also have their reasons for continuing to live here among extended families. Previously I would define a good neighbor as someone seldom seen or heard having lived in a secluded rural setting but living now within a small town I have no choice as to seeing or hearing people. There it is the real root of my dilemma. The real source of my 7 year itch.

It's a balancing act really or a compromise whatever way you want to describe it. But in order to have it all as a bird hunter I've had to pick and choose. It's not necessary to own any amount of land to hunt. There's plenty of accessible acres even with the loss of much of the CRP across the country. Besides I cover a lot of ground in a day so I'm traveling miles from home to keep rotating the birds I hunt. Having neighbors who don't always exhibit good common sense is nothing specific to North Dakota I have to remind myself. So learning what battles to fight and those you choose to leave alone are part of the compromise. At times I admit it's been a hard lesson.

The question then is, will my love of the open spaces and the opportunity to live with my bird dogs in such a place overcome my itch? More diversions will be required I think. I have to dilute the exposure to idiots and small town life in general. Always remembering people really are pretty much the same wherever you go it's how you look at that reality that makes the difference!

Once There Was A Way....

                                                 To get back home. Lyrics from track 14 on the Beatles Abbey Road album Golden Slumbers made me think about what's on my mind today. This is a conversation I've had more than once as my hunting partner and I crisscrossed the western plains states. Talking hour after hour as we knocked down miles often times late into the night.

If you look at your life it's often obvious how we call on the past as a reference point for our future. We would ponder the difference between living in the past and simply pursuing our passion which may have been born during those innocent days of our childhood. But isn't that just trying to recreate a moment in time we'd ask ourselves.

The answer is that living in the past is when you stop searching for new adventures and your reality becomes only those experiences recalled from memory. Our debate was not whether how you lived was right or wrong but just being conscious of your choice as to how you spend your time and why. Being on the road has a way of causing you to ponder such deep and profound subjects! Sometimes we reached conclusions other times thoughts were left just hanging in the air as questions with no answers. Then there would be miles of silence before our minds refocused.

As we watched our headlights illuminate mile after mile of the road ahead we knew our pursuit did in fact have it's roots in our early years. The things we experienced and where we lived no doubt shaped our lives in much the same ways. I refer to these things as perfect moments. Experiences and feelings permanently embedded in our minds and filed under "all things good". Everyone can recall these things in their lives and how they've played a role in shaping the future.

We agreed on the distinction between trying to relive the past and simply following a path whose rewards are familiar and have a high probability of satisfaction. I likened it to having a great run skiing. Your mind and body remembers the adrenaline rush and alerts your senses to look for it and want it again. So you try and try again sometimes finding it over and over. Other times you can't get it quite right as conditions  change and your chance is lost. But your mind and body still remember and drive you to find it again pushing you and inspiring you to act. To move forward searching.

That's exactly what we were doing as our vehicle filled with favorite guns and gear towing a trailer with 5 bird dog's made it's way through the plains states. Our memories had become a compass in a way telling us in fact this was our way home. A way to search and find those perfect moments over and over again. 

Looking Back And Looking Ahead

                                                       Looking back the setters and I certainly had a wonderful life together. Actually the experiences we had exceeded my imagination of what our time together would be like. As I look into the crystal ball that sits on my bedroom bureau it serves as a reminder to me that the future is only limited by my own imagination.

Mick taking a break west of the old windmill with Beau and Molly in the background. We started our sharptail season here for many years. Seeing 100 to 150 birds a day was common before CRP acres started to vanish. What a time we had!

                                                        As each dog passes I'm reminded that there are beginnings and endings always and that it's important to celebrate both. They are reminders of how to make the most of your time. The incredible experiences we remember and cherish in our lives always require the courage to make decisions to take the first steps on any journey. If I had done a cost analysis of what this journey would have cost me in real time and money from a practical view point it may have been easy to not write that check. But then what would I have had? For myself the question really was what is your life worth to you?

A wonderful place we hunted together in the foothills of the Bighorn mountains. Physically challenging but oh so breathtakingly beautiful! The setters were in the prime of their lives the years we hunted here. Just magnificent to have watched them against this vista.

                                                       The people who's lives have been interrupted by loss and hardship that just pick up and continue on their way are an inspiration to me as I look ahead now. I wonder then as I look into the eyes of the new pup watching me at my side what our life together will be like. Beautiful sun rises and sunsets. The passing of the seasons. Watching new life emerge. The comfort of a loyal companion. Tears of laughter. Tears of sorrow. That's the cycle of life. The setters passing reminded me to again understand and embrace it not turn my back on it.

Molly. The queen of the castle!

                                                       The reason I'm writing is so I'll never forget what it felt like to follow not just my beautiful trio of setters but my own heart. I have been lucky to have been able to spend much of my life where I needed to be for the most part. As I look back then it startles me sometimes to now know how important that really was. Looking ahead it makes my path an easy one to choose. Just follow that dog!

                                                      

                                                      

Along The Way, The Cop That Got Shot By A Skunk

                                           This is a story about neighbors mostly. People are pretty much the same wherever you go as I see it. Harmony exists between people when the Golden Rule is observed that is treating others as you would expect to be treated. On the flip side everything can go to hell pretty quickly when people seem to be void of any such wisdom.

With a population the majority of which is retired folks you have within this small town a considerable amount of time spent on lawn and garden maintenance. There are some people that work all day clipping and snipping keeping their property looking beautiful. A great way to keep active and needless to say a great source of pride in doing so.

Now comes the core of the drama. Cats. Lots of domestic cats allowed to wander about and then due to folks that feel sorry for those cats not so fortunate to have homes lots of feral cats living under buildings and within abandoned structures. In the spring of 2015 there was a real problem with the number of both populations. I'd see them hopping in and out of garbage cans in the alleyways left uncovered and of course come across areas in my flower beds they had used as cat boxes. The lady across the street whose yard is just immaculately kept was just beside herself. The ferals and a crew of domestics were using her hedges and display garden as a playground. After listening to her complain about this problem I encouraged her to call the city and talk to the owner of the domestics that lived a few houses away. Turns out that lady fed the ferals in her abandoned garage all winter which explained why they were in our neighborhood.

After trying to just be a good listener hoping my neighbor would push the city into action I said well if you want to borrow my live trap you can. Then just call the cops and they'll come and pick up the cats. I had called them myself inquiring about what they were doing about the problem.

The first day the neighbor had the trap the cops had to come twice within the first couple hours. Then it was pretty much one a day for a week mostly ferals. If my neighbor wasn't going to be home I'd set the trap at my yard and within a short time had caught 7 or 8 cats just on my side of the street in addition to the several that the neighbor had caught. I am not a cat hater by any means it's just that this was a real problem. In the mean time word was out around town that my neighbor and I were "cat catchers" as they referred to us. The cops were in the neighborhood almost daily for over 2 weeks.

Despite our efforts to get the city to deal with the issue the domestics still kept coming into my neighbors garden areas and using her whole yard as a cat box. They'd break off plants, lay down in the flowers and just set up vigils at the bird baths. Then I was up early one morning and walked across the street to check the trap at my neighbors. As I walked around the hedge I could see something in the trap. I watched for a few seconds when I saw black and white and I mean a stripe of white on the back! I laughed to myself knowing what had happened as I also then picked up the faint odor of skunk! It was just after 6 a.m. too early to wake anybody up over a skunk in a trap so I went home and continued on my morning routine of coffee and surfing the news. I lost track of time until my doorbell rang around 9 0clock I guess. As I walked to the front door there stood my neighbor. Oh my gosh I thought I hope she didn't get sprayed! That thankfully wasn't the case as she explained what she had found when she went out to check her garden coffee in hand. I started laughing before she revealed the part about the skunk and she said, "oh did you already know? why I could have been sprayed by that damn thing!" For second I thought I might be in trouble but I quickly added it was too early to wake anybody and I lost track of the time you see... No worries there. I suggested a call to the police.

Officer Nathan rode up minutes later and took a look surveying the situation. I stayed on my side of the street! After 15 minutes or so of walking back and forth trying to figure out how to get this thing out of the yard I walked over to see what he was proposing to do." Well can't shoot him cause it's in town. Spose we could drop a cover on the cage and just walk it to the truck and take him out to the landfill and then shoot him". Just then here comes one of the city employees with the city backhoe. I said "Hey ask Roger he'll know what to do". So officer Nathan flags down the backhoe and the two of them formulate a plan. They decided to lift officer Nathan up in the backhoe bucket over the hedge so he could drop a blanket over the cage then hook a chain to the trap so Roger could then hoist officer Nathan back over the hedge with the cage dangling from the bucket. Then they could put the cage covered in the backhoe and officer Nathan would follow Roger out of town so he could then dispose of the skunk!

I stayed on my side of the street watching the plan in action. What a spectacle! Off they went out of town. I had told officer Nathan that was my trap and I wanted to make sure I got it back. No problem he said I'll bring it right back. It got to be middle of the afternoon and the neighbor and I were both taking a break from lawn and garden maintenance. I said I wondered when my trap was coming back and just at that moment here comes the police vehicle down the street. Officer Nathan gets out and is wearing only a t shirt and not his regular uniform. I can smell skunk pretty strongly. How did it go? Well when I bent down to shoot him in the cage just as I was going to shoot he turned around and shot me first! He said he would have been back sooner but he had to go home and change out of his uniform. He informed me the cost of over 600 dollars including his Kevlar vest was probably a loss as you just can't get that smell out!

An unwelcome visitor. Elliot a well known cat in the neighborhood has claimed my neighbors garden as his domain much to her dismay. We caught him once but his owner refuses to deal with the issue.

So the story made for good conversation that summer but hard feelings still existed between people on opposing sides of the problem. The city did actively communicate to those people feeding feral's finally but my neighbor was still plagued by the domestics from down the street.

Love Creeks Mick

                               Mick my beautiful gentle and loving boy passed away on a cool sunny afternoon the second day of spring 2016. Mick was a Pinecoble setter with tri color markings that were just stunning. Bred as a classic grouse dog his pedigree was full of Old Hemlock lineage.

The sloughs froze early in November 2014 making this day a memorable solo hunt for Mick and I. Two weeks later together with my sons Jared and Carson we enjoyed Mick's last day in the field together on a snowy Thanksgiving weekend. He just wouldn't give up, I'd stop frequently to clean his paws of snow and we'd continue on into the wind. 

He arrived at the Love Creek valley in the winter of 2003 as a pup of 11 weeks. Mick soon revealed his playful nature and gentle personality that were distinct traits throughout his lifetime. With wild birds out our back door there was plenty of scent to discover and explore. Those early days were spent just walking the 3/4 mile lane leading to the farm with me admiring this new and beautiful creature that had come into my life.

We have all experienced moments when we know opportunities are upon us. Instinctively something within us knows we are close to what may be essential to our survival and well being. Mick was exactly that. The match was "right as rain" as the saying goes. So Mick became true north for me at a time when at age 49 I was ready to map out the rest of my life. I often lamented Mick not arriving earlier but the truth was I wasn't quite ready for him yet.

Mick training on quail at the farm

As an avid reader I had been enjoying the Ben Williams accounts of prairie hunting with multiple dogs when I reconnected with an old friend from high school who just happened to have been hunting in North Dakota. Soon 2 new roommates arrived for Mick also Pinecoble setters! That started a decade of traveling and hunting experiences I remembered only reading about in magazines as a kid in the local barbershop.

Thanks to Mick my life had taken on new meaning and purpose. He taught me most of what I now know about dog's even though I'd had a dog all my life. There was also no doubt that I belonged to him. Always by my side and watched by those big brown eyes. Tail wagging till the end.

Mick was a dominant male no doubt about that but due to his gentle nature we always came to compromise. His eyes seemed to always say trust me R lets just try it my way! So most of the time we did as Mick would leave no birds behind ever! And he'd hold a point for as long as it took me to find him. He had uncanny bird sense so I just let him work his magic a beautiful thing it was indeed.

A proud and dominant dog but so very gentle and loving. That was my Mick indeed.

One story about Mick I haven't told in these pages was a visit to the vets office several year's ago. We were sitting in the large lobby waiting to be called when a little boy about 4 years old came walking over with a stuffed toy in one hand. This boy was fidgety and smiling as he made his way towards us Mick having his eye on the toy. He was the only one of my setters that enjoyed toys. The little boy stopped a couple feet from us and said he was here because his mom had to bring their wiener dog to see the doctor because he was to fat! He explained that the doctor said the dog had to be on a special diet but that he still gave him extra food when he was hungry if his mom wasn't looking! Then he reached out and petted Mick on the head and being a proud dominant dog Mick responded with a cautionary rumble from deep within his throat meaning R tell the kid no petting on the head! Tail was wagging the whole time of course but I explained to this precocious little boy what the rules were.

So today I feel a little lost without my Mick. He was my compass for more than a decade. The number one rule in bird hunting is to follow the dog of course. That I did and for many people this may be beyond their understanding how a dog could be a catalyst for changing your lifestyle. The lesson is to know when these opportunities are upon you as they can come in very unexpected ways then listen to the voice inside for directions. Be faithful to yourself and follow them. Thanks to Mick he was all of that for me as well as a loving and faithful companion that helped change my life in so many wonderful ways! Hold that point Mick I'll be there soon.