Significantly less habitat. Fewer birds. More assholes. If you're coming here to hunt wild birds think twice. Some local "Clubs" are now releasing birds to help fill the bars and motels with hunters or is it to restock the wild bird population to help fill the bars and motels. I forget which. However driving hunter traffic in areas with significant losses of quality upland habitat only creates crowding and over hunting and I might add safety issues in the field for you and your dog's. But anyway oil development and increased commodity prices for crops have changed the landscape in North Dakota and not in a good way for the upland hunter. Everything trumps habitat these days. The CRP program was the dam for decades but it's broken and the resulting flood of pressure on habitat is destroying everything in it's path.
Fish and Game don't forget is in the business too. Of selling licenses that is. So any forecast is aimed at sustaining those sales and keeping the finger pointed at someone else when revenues drop due to a decrease in hunter (asshole) traffic. And don't believe everything you hear as they are very dependent on non resident license revenue's.
So if you travel in a group used to going home with a "limit" of birds forget it. Give the local hunt club your business this year. Rent a motel. Shoot em up! Then have a few drinks and play some cards with the gang reminiscing about the days when you could shoot that "limit". Then go home and sit in front of the television with your overweight labs and wives. Maybe you'll reminisce yet again. About the days when it was just the two of you. You and the dog I mean! Either way they'll enjoy your company much more than we will! Asshole's!
Note: The term asshole does not apply to "fair chase" hunters.
Sunday, July 14, 2013
Thursday, February 7, 2013
September Sunday Morning
I remember the first time I traveled through this small town I now call home several years ago. It stood out from other small prairie towns I'd been through as we traveled through the western plains states. It was neat. Clean. Irrigated lawns kept the grass green into the fall and the streets were wide and void of much traffic. As you walked down the business main street you could hear country western music playing from speakers outside the local hardware store. A feeling and moment in time that could have easily been 40 or 50 years ago.
After I had retired I was drawn back to this place and moved into a house that could have been where "Leave It To Beaver" was filmed. A front porch. Dormers on the front and back with a nice yard and single car garage. It wasn't long before I got to know the routine of the town and how things worked in this culture of Russian German heritage. Each week has it's routine. Of course the school two blocks away creates the usual bus traffic and kids walking to and from. The Sale barn on the edge of town has sales on Thursdays so cattle are delivered on Wednesday then heard in a constant drone till hauled out again on Friday. The train usually comes through twice a week sounding it's whistle as it stops to pick up grain from the towers looming along the tracks in the heart of town. Garbage pickup is Mondays and Wednesdays with street sweeping going on constantly it seems. The Catholic church rings the bells daily at mid day I'm not quite sure why but it's a pleasant sound drifting through the neighborhoods. There are several active civic clubs that meet regularly and a Golden Age club that serves senior meals twice a week as well. There are the usual coffee clutches at the local cafe and many Pinochle games played somewhere everyday. For a town of about 750 people it seems like a lot of activity but in a sparsely populated area these are the opportunities for social interaction. I laugh at this because it's the same people at every event. Many people serve on multiple boards and organizations attending lots of meetings. Always the meetings. But they do it to keep this community alive and a place they're proud to live and raise their families.
So once I'd been here for awhile it didn't take long to notice something very special at least to me. Sundays. As I sat out on my front porch with a cup of coffee one morning I noted the specific feel of Sunday. No traffic on main street. No buses running. The cattle gone from the sale barn left just the calling of occasional geese flying overhead. All the routine of the week comes to a standstill on this day casting a silent spell over this little town. A time to reflect and enjoy what is small town life. I remembered the same feeling as a kid in the small town I grew up in. Even though I'm retired and can do as I choose on any day I still cherish the feel of Sundays as a time to pause. A time to look around and wonder about things.
In 2012 it was the second day of the Sharptail season on one of these Sunday's with sunny skies and little wind that I decided to load up the Setters for a run in a hilly pasture adjacent to a hay field. We headed out early before the temperature started to rise hoping to get in 2 or 3 hours of hunting in the mild weather we'd been having. As we traveled several miles we didn't pass another vehicle then turned onto a secondary road alone again a couple miles until we came to a section line road. Basically a field road. We headed north a mile and parked the Jeep planning to skirt the alfalfa and then work back east through the pasture. We had located several coveys in this area scouting during August so I knew these sections held at least 4 to 5 dozen Sharptail in addition to Pheasants that use the area as well.
As soon as I released the Setter's I noted the feeling of this morning. It was still with only the sound of the meadowlarks calling. A beautiful blue sky as a backdrop to the prairie and hills in front of us. We headed to the west and the Setters fanned out into the alfalfa. The birds had been very tough to hunt the previous day with windy conditions. You would think with the cover of wind you'd have an advantage but it's just the opposite. The birds are easier to hunt when it's still. They must feel more secure as they occupy the high ground using their eyes to watch for predators approaching. So today I had hopes we'd get a nice point on a covey. The pups circled around to me with tails wagging and continued casting about the alfalfa hitting all the likely places we'd seen birds here before but after 3/4 of a mile no cigar. As I scanned the area to the west now as we approached the pasture I suspected the birds were occupying the high ground there. They were here somewhere. This pasture is one that hadn't been over grazed which in this year was the exception having been so hot and dry. It has a spine so to speak down the center that is a favorite area for the birds here. I suspect some of the flat areas on top are used as dancing grounds with this population staying in close proximity to where they breed and raise their broods.
We cross the fence and enter the pasture from the west end working back towards the Jeep a mile away. Within seconds a covey of sharptail busts wild a couple hundred yards ahead and I worry about a repeat of the previous days difficulty getting within shooting range. It's just a gorgeous morning to be out for a walk anyway so I relax and continue watching the Setters work the area ahead as we climb the hills of the spine. There are plenty of bowls within these hills offering refuge to the birds. Now into the hills I watch as Beau and Mick get birdy slowing up on a rise with Beau to Micks left with head high into the wind. Birds ahead! Mick stops first with Beau going a few more steps not seeing Micks point taking in scent himself. Molly is to my right as I focus on these two coming to point on this rise. I'm 75 feet behind as I climb cautiously to the edge of the rise. I look to my right one more time to check on Molly and she's birdy as well. For a split second I debate whether to follow her or proceed to Mick and Beau a little farther away. I keep heading towards them slowly. Half the distance to them birds start flushing. Not just ahead of them but all around them! Within a couple seconds at least 20 birds have taken flight. I pick out a bird flying to the south at 35 yards and fire. Bird down. Then I quickly look back towards Molly and she's on point just down the west side of the rise to my right! Often times there are delayed flushes with Sharptail catching you off guard but with multiple pointing dogs you have some advantage anyway. I knew the first bird was dead and both Mick and Beau had marked the bird so I proceeded towards Molly's point not taking time to reload the first shell. No time. I'd just have to shoot well! So laughing to myself I remembered my Dad teaching me to hunt with a single shot 410 "You've got one shot make it count!." So I made my approach with Molly just rock solid with her eyes fixed at a point about 5 feet in front of her. I got within 10 yards and a Sharptail exploded from the grass straight away to the west falling with the report from my 20 gauge. What a relief I felt indeed having made that shot count shooting the bird for Molly. She was quick to move ahead to recover her bird and as she picked it up I turned to look back and here comes Mick not to be out done with his bird in his mouth followed by Beau joining Molly and myself. What a moment. Water all around!
After a good drink with all tails wagging approval we continued west through the pasture. The Setters crossed back into a section of the hay field and worked some moving birds culminating in a point with all 3 strung out in a line headed by Beau in the lead. This turned out to be a brood of young Pheasants with the roosters just starting to show good color. Regardless of whether a shot is fired it's a joy to watch the show. It's hard to relate to someone what hunting with multiple pointing dogs is like but it adds an incredible dimension to the experience. It's well worth the time and expense required when you watch these moments come together before your eyes.
A quarter mile from the Jeep we're still in the hills when I check my Garmin to locate Mick and he's out 150 yards east and I spot him as I come to the top of a rise. He's on point at the base of the next hill. Characteristic of Mick he turns his head towards me to see where I'm at. He's the only one that does this. And when he spots me he wags his tail slightly turning back into the scent as if to say "OK game on!" I've a ways to go so I hustle up weighted down by the two birds in my shoulder bag. Once the other two dogs see my pace quicken they look ahead and spot the action. Hunting as a pack the Setters pick up on any nuances that indicate somebody's found birds myself included. We all then converge on Mick's point with Molly and Beau honoring from a good distance away. I'm skeptical of whether or not this is a Sharpatil since the bird was holding so well but I came closer and closer now within 15 yards of Mick. He straightened his tail as I approached another Mick attribute. He was looking down into the pasture grass a few feet ahead and I walked right past him with the other dogs watching intently to my right. Nothing flushed as I moved ahead so I looked back at where Micks eyes were focused and followed the line kicking the grass. Sure enough a Sharptail burst out of the grass to the north slightly to my left and fell to the ground with my shot. I had just tipped it over with a wing shot and Mick did his best to secure the flopping bird holding it with his paw till I got there. Mick is a very smart hunter so not to be fooled by his somewhat laid back style at times. He's a little slower yes but his methodical approach has foiled the best wild birds time and again.
What a difference a day makes I thought. A total change in how the birds had behaved in 24 hours time. We made our way to the Jeep feeling the heat starting to rise slightly. We had captured the best hours of the day. Mission accomplished. Another beautiful September Sunday morning.
After I had retired I was drawn back to this place and moved into a house that could have been where "Leave It To Beaver" was filmed. A front porch. Dormers on the front and back with a nice yard and single car garage. It wasn't long before I got to know the routine of the town and how things worked in this culture of Russian German heritage. Each week has it's routine. Of course the school two blocks away creates the usual bus traffic and kids walking to and from. The Sale barn on the edge of town has sales on Thursdays so cattle are delivered on Wednesday then heard in a constant drone till hauled out again on Friday. The train usually comes through twice a week sounding it's whistle as it stops to pick up grain from the towers looming along the tracks in the heart of town. Garbage pickup is Mondays and Wednesdays with street sweeping going on constantly it seems. The Catholic church rings the bells daily at mid day I'm not quite sure why but it's a pleasant sound drifting through the neighborhoods. There are several active civic clubs that meet regularly and a Golden Age club that serves senior meals twice a week as well. There are the usual coffee clutches at the local cafe and many Pinochle games played somewhere everyday. For a town of about 750 people it seems like a lot of activity but in a sparsely populated area these are the opportunities for social interaction. I laugh at this because it's the same people at every event. Many people serve on multiple boards and organizations attending lots of meetings. Always the meetings. But they do it to keep this community alive and a place they're proud to live and raise their families.
So once I'd been here for awhile it didn't take long to notice something very special at least to me. Sundays. As I sat out on my front porch with a cup of coffee one morning I noted the specific feel of Sunday. No traffic on main street. No buses running. The cattle gone from the sale barn left just the calling of occasional geese flying overhead. All the routine of the week comes to a standstill on this day casting a silent spell over this little town. A time to reflect and enjoy what is small town life. I remembered the same feeling as a kid in the small town I grew up in. Even though I'm retired and can do as I choose on any day I still cherish the feel of Sundays as a time to pause. A time to look around and wonder about things.
In 2012 it was the second day of the Sharptail season on one of these Sunday's with sunny skies and little wind that I decided to load up the Setters for a run in a hilly pasture adjacent to a hay field. We headed out early before the temperature started to rise hoping to get in 2 or 3 hours of hunting in the mild weather we'd been having. As we traveled several miles we didn't pass another vehicle then turned onto a secondary road alone again a couple miles until we came to a section line road. Basically a field road. We headed north a mile and parked the Jeep planning to skirt the alfalfa and then work back east through the pasture. We had located several coveys in this area scouting during August so I knew these sections held at least 4 to 5 dozen Sharptail in addition to Pheasants that use the area as well.
As soon as I released the Setter's I noted the feeling of this morning. It was still with only the sound of the meadowlarks calling. A beautiful blue sky as a backdrop to the prairie and hills in front of us. We headed to the west and the Setters fanned out into the alfalfa. The birds had been very tough to hunt the previous day with windy conditions. You would think with the cover of wind you'd have an advantage but it's just the opposite. The birds are easier to hunt when it's still. They must feel more secure as they occupy the high ground using their eyes to watch for predators approaching. So today I had hopes we'd get a nice point on a covey. The pups circled around to me with tails wagging and continued casting about the alfalfa hitting all the likely places we'd seen birds here before but after 3/4 of a mile no cigar. As I scanned the area to the west now as we approached the pasture I suspected the birds were occupying the high ground there. They were here somewhere. This pasture is one that hadn't been over grazed which in this year was the exception having been so hot and dry. It has a spine so to speak down the center that is a favorite area for the birds here. I suspect some of the flat areas on top are used as dancing grounds with this population staying in close proximity to where they breed and raise their broods.
We cross the fence and enter the pasture from the west end working back towards the Jeep a mile away. Within seconds a covey of sharptail busts wild a couple hundred yards ahead and I worry about a repeat of the previous days difficulty getting within shooting range. It's just a gorgeous morning to be out for a walk anyway so I relax and continue watching the Setters work the area ahead as we climb the hills of the spine. There are plenty of bowls within these hills offering refuge to the birds. Now into the hills I watch as Beau and Mick get birdy slowing up on a rise with Beau to Micks left with head high into the wind. Birds ahead! Mick stops first with Beau going a few more steps not seeing Micks point taking in scent himself. Molly is to my right as I focus on these two coming to point on this rise. I'm 75 feet behind as I climb cautiously to the edge of the rise. I look to my right one more time to check on Molly and she's birdy as well. For a split second I debate whether to follow her or proceed to Mick and Beau a little farther away. I keep heading towards them slowly. Half the distance to them birds start flushing. Not just ahead of them but all around them! Within a couple seconds at least 20 birds have taken flight. I pick out a bird flying to the south at 35 yards and fire. Bird down. Then I quickly look back towards Molly and she's on point just down the west side of the rise to my right! Often times there are delayed flushes with Sharptail catching you off guard but with multiple pointing dogs you have some advantage anyway. I knew the first bird was dead and both Mick and Beau had marked the bird so I proceeded towards Molly's point not taking time to reload the first shell. No time. I'd just have to shoot well! So laughing to myself I remembered my Dad teaching me to hunt with a single shot 410 "You've got one shot make it count!." So I made my approach with Molly just rock solid with her eyes fixed at a point about 5 feet in front of her. I got within 10 yards and a Sharptail exploded from the grass straight away to the west falling with the report from my 20 gauge. What a relief I felt indeed having made that shot count shooting the bird for Molly. She was quick to move ahead to recover her bird and as she picked it up I turned to look back and here comes Mick not to be out done with his bird in his mouth followed by Beau joining Molly and myself. What a moment. Water all around!
After a good drink with all tails wagging approval we continued west through the pasture. The Setters crossed back into a section of the hay field and worked some moving birds culminating in a point with all 3 strung out in a line headed by Beau in the lead. This turned out to be a brood of young Pheasants with the roosters just starting to show good color. Regardless of whether a shot is fired it's a joy to watch the show. It's hard to relate to someone what hunting with multiple pointing dogs is like but it adds an incredible dimension to the experience. It's well worth the time and expense required when you watch these moments come together before your eyes.
A quarter mile from the Jeep we're still in the hills when I check my Garmin to locate Mick and he's out 150 yards east and I spot him as I come to the top of a rise. He's on point at the base of the next hill. Characteristic of Mick he turns his head towards me to see where I'm at. He's the only one that does this. And when he spots me he wags his tail slightly turning back into the scent as if to say "OK game on!" I've a ways to go so I hustle up weighted down by the two birds in my shoulder bag. Once the other two dogs see my pace quicken they look ahead and spot the action. Hunting as a pack the Setters pick up on any nuances that indicate somebody's found birds myself included. We all then converge on Mick's point with Molly and Beau honoring from a good distance away. I'm skeptical of whether or not this is a Sharpatil since the bird was holding so well but I came closer and closer now within 15 yards of Mick. He straightened his tail as I approached another Mick attribute. He was looking down into the pasture grass a few feet ahead and I walked right past him with the other dogs watching intently to my right. Nothing flushed as I moved ahead so I looked back at where Micks eyes were focused and followed the line kicking the grass. Sure enough a Sharptail burst out of the grass to the north slightly to my left and fell to the ground with my shot. I had just tipped it over with a wing shot and Mick did his best to secure the flopping bird holding it with his paw till I got there. Mick is a very smart hunter so not to be fooled by his somewhat laid back style at times. He's a little slower yes but his methodical approach has foiled the best wild birds time and again.
What a difference a day makes I thought. A total change in how the birds had behaved in 24 hours time. We made our way to the Jeep feeling the heat starting to rise slightly. We had captured the best hours of the day. Mission accomplished. Another beautiful September Sunday morning.
Sunday, January 20, 2013
An Afternoon With Beau
Beau exhibits a lot of style with his head up surfing in the wind in a seemingly effortless gait. Always a vocal dog he howls at me around the house as I reach for my boots or gun letting me know he intends to not be left behind wagging his tail and circling around me. But this season I sensed more urgency in his attitude when he knew it was time to head to the field. I couldn't help but wonder maybe he sensed something unknown to me. Intuition maybe. We'd been fortunate to have had so many great experiences together in beautiful places for bird dog's and myself. Thoughts of when it would change crossed my mind. When would I lose them or as I talked with my long time friend and hunting partner maybe I'd go first. Anyway I thought whatever was causing Beau's increased urgency to hunt certainly exemplified his true passion for finding birds. The responsibility for owning or being owned rather by a Setter like this is to get them on birds as many days of their life as possible because that's what they live for. That's the best gift you could give them and yourself because to see them perform they're magic is a priceless reward.
So I listened to the howling from Beau on this afternoon as I reached for my gear around the house. As I lace up my boots he stands with his nose in my face making it difficult to see what I'm doing but I don't mind. Molly joins him wagging her tail at this ritual. I'd been doing these solo runs regularly since September so it was no surprise to Mick and Molly when I didn't put a collar on them. They knew it wasn't their turn. Nonetheless the look they give me as I let Beau through the door could break your heart. However I knew they'd be sleeping 5 minutes after we left!
We arrived at our destination which was a section of pasture bordered by a section of corn stubble. This area holds both pheasants and grouse. The routine is to circle the edges of the corn hunting some small weedy areas then coming back through the pasture. It's a long run being about a 4 mile walk for me but we had plenty of time starting at 2 o'clock with sunset being about 6 o'clock or so. This year I had been doing mostly afternoon hunting for a couple of reasons. First of all I like my coffee time in the morning! Secondly mostly everyone else rushes to get out early so this way I don't see most of those assholes. I've noted it makes no difference what so ever in our success locating birds. And I really like hunting towards the end of the day watching the sun set.
Beau's a big lanky Setter and can really cover some ground which I let him do using Garmin tracking collars on all my Setters. This makes the hunt much more enjoyable for me and the dog's. Silent as well! We headed west into the wind and were into scent right away as Beau pointed several hens a couple hundred yards into the run. Then as we continued west a covey of sharptail flushed wild out of range from the edge along the corn stubble. We were heading to a corner where a hay field met the corn and Beau came over a slight rise and locked up 100 feet off the fence line out in the open corn stubble. This would be a 40 yard shot at best if the bird busted but I was able to get within 15 yards of Beau when a mature rooster bolted moving left to right and fell with a single shot from my Ruger Gold Label. These points are really special as it's a beautiful sight seeing the Setters pointing in the open cover plus there's such suspense not knowing how long that bird is going to hold.
We continued on and circled into the pasture busting another covey of sharptail without getting a shot. Some days are just like that. On this particular run they sometimes will set down within the pasture again but not today. All the birds flew far to the west across the road and into the adjacent hills. Beau was casting back to the east now as we headed for the southern edge of this run which has a little brush and cover along the edge. Not much but enough here and there to sometimes hold birds. This area when viewed from the road would be overlooked by 90% of hunters because it doesn't look like much unless you've walked the ground and know the pockets of cover are there. More time on your feet not on your seat (Fat Ass) applies here. There's nothing easy about hunting these spots it just takes walking mile after mile.
A quarter mile up this edge Beau became birdy casting out into the pasture and back towards the fence line indicating we maybe had some birds feeding in the pasture. It wasn't long before he slowed with his head high and eased to a stop looking up the fence line ahead where there was some scrub brush visible. Head high looking forward usually means he's pointing at some distance. I love this Setter as he never wants to push birds but that means you've got to know the signals and read the situation. Here it meant I had birds but up ahead quite a ways probably in that little bit of cover on the fence line. The right way to do this is to walk slowly ahead but don't stop until they flush. Go right past the dog and continue walking in a line with where he's looking. I know this because many times I violate the rule by stopping to look around and that's when the birds bolt causing you to lose valuable yards which can make or break a shooting opportunity. Then the birds have no hard and fast rules about sitting still of course just because your dog's on point! Today however I walked past Beau with head high and proceeded for the patch of cover getting within 15 yards when 4 rooster's flushed. Two to the south and two to the northeast. I swung on a rooster to the south slightly to my right and brought him down in the adjacent pasture. This all happened so fast I didn't have an opportunity for another shot but knew we maybe had a shot of finding another bird up ahead. Every time I hunt this dog I remark to myself how I love his style. So cautious and patient. He's taking me hunting I laugh to myself glad to have made the shot for Beau.
We worked another quarter mile to the east when Beau picked up scent again along a waterway in the pasture. He played cat and mouse with a couple hens that just wouldn't fly and I decided after this game had gone on for a good while ending with the hens flushing wild that this would be a good time to take a leak. Right in the middle of the process Beau goes on point 40 yards in front of me but by the time I was zipped up and ready a rooster flushed wild before I could get close." I'm sorry I thought but those hens had caused me to lose focus Beau". Well it wasn't long before he was on to scent again in the same area as he circled back towards me and picked up a track going under the fence and into a hay field. He was clearly working a moving bird and I watched a little then climbed over not wanting to squander another opportunity. Beau was 75 yards in front of me when he abruptly spun slightly to his right and pointed with his head down to the ground. This meant that bird was right there! I hightailed it to him as fast as I could and without stopping! Amazingly I walked right in and flushed yet another rooster from a patch of foot high alfalfa. The bird flew straight away to the north and fell with one shot! Always be a believer I said to myself. It's interesting how many 50 and a hundred yard dashes I do in the course of a season sometimes several within the same hunt! But if you don't pheasants will just out run you and your dog if you don't let them do what they have to do to get them pinned down. We recovered our bird and I gave Beau kudos for a great job handling these roosters. Neither one of us was tired out and the weather was really nice with sunny skies and temps in the upper 40's with little wind. I checked the time and it was a little after 4 o'clock so I decided we'd head to a favorite grouse spot to end the day. What fun we were having. That's the beauty of hunting in North Dakota as the prospect of a mixed bag of different species really can make for a full day. Both for you and your dog's!
Beau made his way into the run casting along the edge of the fence line and a couple of hundred yards ahead slows at the rise of a hill head high. I hurry ahead and as I get to him a covey of sharptail flushes just out of range of course but I watch as they circle south to the hill country I just described. We continue on and Beau moves ahead another 75 yards and stops again looking right into the fence line not far from where that first covey had flushed. I was able to move right up to him almost when a plump sharptail burst forth chuckling as it flew south straight away. I fired and the bird tumbled into a strip of cut hay as the drought allowed farmers to cut waterfowl production grass this season. Beau easily located our bird and I stopped to admire this specimen of our favorite upland bird to hunt.
We walked on to the east moving another covey of sharptail in the corn stubble along the fence line. They also flew into the hill country to the south. Knowing we had at least 20 birds in those hills and 2 more grouse to fill our limit for the day we circled that way but not before working a few hen pheasants along a cattail waterway. This took a while and I was checking the clock for time as we had a lot of ground to cover to reach the Jeep before dark. I was now feeling the effect of walking all afternoon as I diligently kept up with Beau working these birds. But I knew this wasn't just any day. Beau had been into birds non stop from the beginning and handled them all very well. We had some birds bust on their own but that's what wild birds do!
We crossed the fence and into the adjacent hills we went. I love this cover. It's big and the birds could be anywhere making it a real challenge for both Beau and myself. I hunt this by making a big circle around the south end and then coming back through the hills letting the dog range as he will and moving towards him as he picks up scent. I've learned the pattern of this population of birds so I am aware of about where they might be but that's never a sure bet! The first birds I see flush wild off a hill a few hundred yards ahead. Safety in numbers. I admire the survival tools these grouse have to live in this harsh climate. We walk up and down and finally Beau's got scent around a familiar area. I approach and the bird surprises me and flushes slightly behind to my right. I turn and fire missing. a make-able shot but no cigar. You have to get used to longer shooting with these birds as they go down much easier than a pheasant and as a result I pass up many shots I should take until I get dialed in some days.
I check my clock and decide to turn towards the northwest gauging our time before sundown. I lose sight of Beau for a minute and pull out my Garmin to locate him. He's 120 yards on the other side of a hill on point! I read the terrain and he's to my right just over the top of the hill which makes sense as sharptail like to be on the leeward side just tucked out of the wind. That puts those birds somewhere between us just over the rise. So I decide to walk up the hill so they can't see me until the last second hoping to get a close shot at the birds. I got 3/4 of the way to the top which was about within 50 yards of where Beau was pointing when I heard birds flushing and sharptail clucking. I looked in that direction and saw two birds coming right at me overhead! I raised my gun to my shoulder and took the first bird at 1 o'clock falling 10 feet from me. Then swung around as the other bird flew directly over my head and pulled the trigger at 10 o'clock. But nothing happened. My gun didn't fire. I had forgotten to reload after the last shot! But that's the incredible shooting you can experience in this hill country. Not every run but sometimes it all works out.... almost!
We had a good 1/2 mile to go to get back to the Jeep I was tired having pushed myself beyond the limit of my endurance but not Beau. He just kept working birds. I had all I could do to keep up at this point. We got almost out of the hills when I saw a rock on the hillside and sat down for a minute watching Beau in what I thought was barren cover. Then I looked at the Jeep a ways away yet and when I went to look back at Beau he was on point. Again! But this time in a really odd location. Right on the edge of a dried up pothole with just a little bit of weedy cover about the edge. I got off my butt and took two steps and 4 sharptail busted ahead. I fired two shots missing but mostly to let Beau know I appreciated the effort!
Saturday, January 19, 2013
Mystery In The Snow
The last day of the 2012 season started out as a foggy morning with everything covered in crystals of light snow like someone had just put a layer of frosting on the landscape. I hadn't decided at daybreak whether or not to take one more walk before signing off on another memorable season with the Setters. I had been shooting baskets over at the community center the last few weeks making up for the miles I was missing once the weather and snow restricted our movement. While this day was still without any noticeable sunshine I decided to head for the gym a block away. Upon arriving I pulled on the door to find it locked and remembered the custodian doesn't open it until after church on Sundays. Having been ready for some exercise I was disappointed and as I made my way home decided in that moment we were indeed going to make our final walk in the snow.
The options ran through my mind of places to end our season. I wanted a big area we could spend the rest of the day which would potentially hold all 3 species,pheasants,sharptail and huns. Having not shot a hun all season this registered as an objective. I also knew we could for sure find sharptail and get them in the air but pheasants were a different story in these winter conditions. While they are always fun for the Setters to try and pin down I had become tired of their antics the last few weeks. The gang hunters take these conditions as their cue to call up the troops and surround shelter belts and sloughs to try and even the score. Not our game. But anyway who could say they wouldn't want to see just one more rooster burst forth from the snow against a winter sky.
So we traveled 40 miles south and worked a large area with some hills and pasture with waterways bordered by wheat stubble and some corn along with flowers as well. It amazes me how much food is available out there as long as the birds can get to it. The area had some tree rows and we began by walking along them as we made our way into the area. It's always a game of which side of the cover to be on and because I hunt alone my expectations are always low in this situation even with pointing dogs. The birds always seem to know which side you're on and just fly out the opposite direction. Sure enough within the opening minutes and not a quarter mile into our hunt all 3 Setters were pointing a rooster on the opposite side of the tree row! I walked up slowly and attempted to make my way across the brush line when the rooster bolted away easily obstructed from view in the brush. It was a pretty sight with Mick in the lead flanked by Beau and Molly all focused on a spot hidden in the snow and brush. I laughed glad the pups had gotten him pinned down anyway.
As we continued on I noticed a set of tracks not from my dogs everywhere we went. Once I got out of the sugary blown snow onto more stable ground I could see it was a coyote as I had suspected. This coyote was actually hunting the exact same path and cover as we were. No surprise there! But I thought about the constant battle these birds fight against the daily pressure from these predators. That's why I have such strong feelings about fair chase hunting. Every year I hear horror stories about gang hunters surrounding birds in winter habitat and taking large numbers of roosters bragging about the killing which is exactly what it is not hunting.
So I then decided to head for the edge of the wheat stubble hoping maybe we'd find the coveys of huns I had seen here throughout the season but hadn't got a good set up on. Excuses. Excuses. I know. Anyway with pheasant tracks everywhere as we made our way through the snow to the fence line again our coyote foe had made the same route heading north into the back reaches of our run. A couple hundred yards along the wheat stubble in the open snow I came upon 3 rooster tail feathers just sitting on top of the snow. I was puzzled thinking about how this came to be with no signs of a struggle anywhere close or any tracks of any kind except the coyote who had walked along the fence line edge. I said to myself that's great he must not have captured the rooster. As the Setters worked the stubble casting back and forth towards the fence line I walked another 30 yards and spotted a dark spot about 3 feet in diameter ahead of me. Then as I walked closer the dark spot became visible to me. A pile of feathers. All that was left of a rooster that had obviously lost the battle to the coyote. As I looked around trying to figure out the circumstances under which this occurred I couldn't visualize in my mind what actually took place. A mystery in the snow. A battle between predator and prey.
We moved on with the coyote tracks preceding our every move as we checked all the cover. The Setters were dealing with the accumulation of snow between they're toes stopping every so often to rip the ice from they're feet as best they could. The sun had emerged and we had a beautiful day. The bonus was that I had not over dressed and was comfortable without over heating as we made our way through foot deep snow now a couple miles from the Jeep.
Finally in the middle of this large area on the top of a small knoll with a few bushes Beau came to point flanked by Mick then Molly slightly behind. As I moved up alongside Beau I peered into the scant cover and saw nothing but fresh tracks leading in. I could tell by looking at the tracks that this was definitely a rooster judging by the size. I then moved ahead of Beau and nothing flushed. Mick moved ahead slightly and locked up again with Beau and Molly remaining where they were. As I scanned ahead I could see the cover ended ahead about 50 feet in a finger of light grass out into the wheat stubble. I slowly followed the line of sparse grass to the end and stopped with all 3 Setters solid on point behind me focused on the very end point now. This would be it I thought. A very beautiful point and shot in the open cover to end the season. I walked one more step and a rooster exploded into flight from the very end of the cover falling with a single report from my 20 gauge sxs a favorite gun I carried most of the season. Beau having been in the lead moved ahead securing the bird as we all converged on our final prize of the season taking a few moments to take it all in.
We walked for another couple hours and miles pursuing birds under mostly bright sunny skies and ideal temperatures for a winters hunt. The Setters pointed several more birds including a large group of hens maybe 20 or more I expect. It was just a great sight as I watched for a rooster standing right in the middle of the flush. There may have been one there but I didn't care as we'd already had our moment.The rest was just for the Setters to enjoy and dream about during the cold winter days ahead.
The options ran through my mind of places to end our season. I wanted a big area we could spend the rest of the day which would potentially hold all 3 species,pheasants,sharptail and huns. Having not shot a hun all season this registered as an objective. I also knew we could for sure find sharptail and get them in the air but pheasants were a different story in these winter conditions. While they are always fun for the Setters to try and pin down I had become tired of their antics the last few weeks. The gang hunters take these conditions as their cue to call up the troops and surround shelter belts and sloughs to try and even the score. Not our game. But anyway who could say they wouldn't want to see just one more rooster burst forth from the snow against a winter sky.
So we traveled 40 miles south and worked a large area with some hills and pasture with waterways bordered by wheat stubble and some corn along with flowers as well. It amazes me how much food is available out there as long as the birds can get to it. The area had some tree rows and we began by walking along them as we made our way into the area. It's always a game of which side of the cover to be on and because I hunt alone my expectations are always low in this situation even with pointing dogs. The birds always seem to know which side you're on and just fly out the opposite direction. Sure enough within the opening minutes and not a quarter mile into our hunt all 3 Setters were pointing a rooster on the opposite side of the tree row! I walked up slowly and attempted to make my way across the brush line when the rooster bolted away easily obstructed from view in the brush. It was a pretty sight with Mick in the lead flanked by Beau and Molly all focused on a spot hidden in the snow and brush. I laughed glad the pups had gotten him pinned down anyway.
As we continued on I noticed a set of tracks not from my dogs everywhere we went. Once I got out of the sugary blown snow onto more stable ground I could see it was a coyote as I had suspected. This coyote was actually hunting the exact same path and cover as we were. No surprise there! But I thought about the constant battle these birds fight against the daily pressure from these predators. That's why I have such strong feelings about fair chase hunting. Every year I hear horror stories about gang hunters surrounding birds in winter habitat and taking large numbers of roosters bragging about the killing which is exactly what it is not hunting.
So I then decided to head for the edge of the wheat stubble hoping maybe we'd find the coveys of huns I had seen here throughout the season but hadn't got a good set up on. Excuses. Excuses. I know. Anyway with pheasant tracks everywhere as we made our way through the snow to the fence line again our coyote foe had made the same route heading north into the back reaches of our run. A couple hundred yards along the wheat stubble in the open snow I came upon 3 rooster tail feathers just sitting on top of the snow. I was puzzled thinking about how this came to be with no signs of a struggle anywhere close or any tracks of any kind except the coyote who had walked along the fence line edge. I said to myself that's great he must not have captured the rooster. As the Setters worked the stubble casting back and forth towards the fence line I walked another 30 yards and spotted a dark spot about 3 feet in diameter ahead of me. Then as I walked closer the dark spot became visible to me. A pile of feathers. All that was left of a rooster that had obviously lost the battle to the coyote. As I looked around trying to figure out the circumstances under which this occurred I couldn't visualize in my mind what actually took place. A mystery in the snow. A battle between predator and prey.
We moved on with the coyote tracks preceding our every move as we checked all the cover. The Setters were dealing with the accumulation of snow between they're toes stopping every so often to rip the ice from they're feet as best they could. The sun had emerged and we had a beautiful day. The bonus was that I had not over dressed and was comfortable without over heating as we made our way through foot deep snow now a couple miles from the Jeep.
Finally in the middle of this large area on the top of a small knoll with a few bushes Beau came to point flanked by Mick then Molly slightly behind. As I moved up alongside Beau I peered into the scant cover and saw nothing but fresh tracks leading in. I could tell by looking at the tracks that this was definitely a rooster judging by the size. I then moved ahead of Beau and nothing flushed. Mick moved ahead slightly and locked up again with Beau and Molly remaining where they were. As I scanned ahead I could see the cover ended ahead about 50 feet in a finger of light grass out into the wheat stubble. I slowly followed the line of sparse grass to the end and stopped with all 3 Setters solid on point behind me focused on the very end point now. This would be it I thought. A very beautiful point and shot in the open cover to end the season. I walked one more step and a rooster exploded into flight from the very end of the cover falling with a single report from my 20 gauge sxs a favorite gun I carried most of the season. Beau having been in the lead moved ahead securing the bird as we all converged on our final prize of the season taking a few moments to take it all in.
We walked for another couple hours and miles pursuing birds under mostly bright sunny skies and ideal temperatures for a winters hunt. The Setters pointed several more birds including a large group of hens maybe 20 or more I expect. It was just a great sight as I watched for a rooster standing right in the middle of the flush. There may have been one there but I didn't care as we'd already had our moment.The rest was just for the Setters to enjoy and dream about during the cold winter days ahead.
Monday, November 12, 2012
The Reclamation
Knowing fully the changes going on around us as we hunt this season my pace has slowed. It's truly painful to see places one after another transformed from big expanses of upland cover to bare and plowed expanses of nothingness. That's from a bird hunter's perspective anyway.
On this day the Setter's were restless by mid day with me not having reached for my hunting clothes. They keep watch waiting for some indicator that we're once again heading for the field. This is the week before the North Dakota deer season and there are still way to many hunter's for what is available to hunt. I've switched to hunting afternoons which seems to give some relief from the throngs of pickup trucks with groups of hunters looking for a place to hunt. Most settle for small sloughs they can easily access and surround.
The sun sets at 6:35 today so I hold off the Setter's till about 3:30 before picking up my gear and putting on my boots. This is what they'd been waiting for all day. I'm immediately surrounded by 3 eager tail wagging and very capable bird dog's. I'd been thinking all day about an out of the way place we could run big and not encounter anyone else. In my mind I owe it to these incredible animals to hunt them to their potential. Challenge them. The reward for me is to watch them perform their magic. Hopefully culminating in a point and a shooting opportunity for them as much as myself.
We head out in the Jeep for a section of wheat stubble with several small weedy patches and sloughs that border a large pothole with a little cover on the south side. This area holds both pheasants and grouse and even an occasional covey of huns in my experience over the past several years. Adjacent to this section to the south is 320 acres that was in CRP the last ten year's I've been coming here but now sits mowed off and covered with round bales. Those round bales were what once was some great cover we hunted every year and contain many memories and moments we'll never forget.
I park the Jeep and let the Setter's out getting they're GPS collar's turned on and my gear ready. We cast westward into the wind toward the first couple of sloughs. As we come to a rise in sight of the cover I don't see it. What's happened I think to myself. Then as I watch the Setter's casting in the wheat stubble I notice the disk marks around where the weedy patches used to be. Then I just stand and look over the square mile I'm in realizing it's the "Reclamation". The drought brought with it the opportunity for farmers to disk right through these patches of cover so important to these birds and myself as a hunter. There was once probably a dozen of them in this field not more than an acre each but enough to hold birds. Now the farmer takes it back when he can having lost it to some recent very wet years.
The wheat stubble is long and I decide to let the Setter's work it hoping maybe we might come across birds. The only scent they pick up however is from geese that had been feeding in the stubble. It's a half mile to the pot hole which still has a weedy patch around it so we walk on. There actually it turns out to be some heavy weedy cover about 2 acres maybe and the Setter's immediately start working scent. Suddenly I see no dog's moving. It's quiet. I knew I had dog's on point but couldn't see them in the mix of weeds and grass. I check my GPS and realize they're in front of me. As I move forward I see Mick holding steady looking right in the direction I'm heading. Then I see Molly to his left 50 feet steady as well. I don't have time to check Beau's location but assume he's pointing the same birds. Suddenly two hens flush behind me and to the right. A couple seconds later 3 or 4 more birds flush to Mick's left. They were "can't tells" as the light didn't allow me to get a good look. No worries. Then Beau moves in towards Mick's location and a mature rooster then suddenly bolts to the east at 35 yards. By the time I mount my gun it was a long shot and miss. We move to the east and work more hens coming to the end of the cover. I turn back to the west and see a coyote sneak out and run across the wheat stubble having obviously been working the same birds.
The rooster looked like it didn't go far so we worked around the section line road at the end of this cover. Beau picked up scent and within seconds came to point. I thought this may be the rooster but nothing was there. Probably where he had just come down minutes before. The Setter's excited again worked up and down the section line road working another hen which Mick pointed. Then I turned them back once again to see if we walked by the rooster. I lost sight of Mick until I came to where the water crossed the road. As I looked about the cattails I caught sight of him. He was waiting for me I realized and when he saw I had seen him wagged his tail then straightened it as if to say "OK here we go!" He was actually standing in water and as I took two more steps the rooster bolted again back toward the weed patch. I fired one shot and missed again. That was great fun and I gave Mick a good "Thank you" as he wagged his tail. It's funny how he communicates with me like that and he also is the one that ends up more often than not doing the detective work on birds like that.
We walked the mile down the section line road back to the Jeep as I thought about the reclamation and what it means. These Setter's are capable of providing me with some incredible experiences if I get them on birds in the right cover. But this is season 10. We've had a great run together. We were here during some of the best days in North Dakota. I'm thankful for that more than I can say. But it will be different now. The same experiences will be possible but we'll have to travel more which means less time in the field. More hunters will be competing to hunt less cover and less birds. This isn't a cycle it's the end of an era. And that is the painful truth about "The Reclamation" .
On this day the Setter's were restless by mid day with me not having reached for my hunting clothes. They keep watch waiting for some indicator that we're once again heading for the field. This is the week before the North Dakota deer season and there are still way to many hunter's for what is available to hunt. I've switched to hunting afternoons which seems to give some relief from the throngs of pickup trucks with groups of hunters looking for a place to hunt. Most settle for small sloughs they can easily access and surround.
The sun sets at 6:35 today so I hold off the Setter's till about 3:30 before picking up my gear and putting on my boots. This is what they'd been waiting for all day. I'm immediately surrounded by 3 eager tail wagging and very capable bird dog's. I'd been thinking all day about an out of the way place we could run big and not encounter anyone else. In my mind I owe it to these incredible animals to hunt them to their potential. Challenge them. The reward for me is to watch them perform their magic. Hopefully culminating in a point and a shooting opportunity for them as much as myself.
We head out in the Jeep for a section of wheat stubble with several small weedy patches and sloughs that border a large pothole with a little cover on the south side. This area holds both pheasants and grouse and even an occasional covey of huns in my experience over the past several years. Adjacent to this section to the south is 320 acres that was in CRP the last ten year's I've been coming here but now sits mowed off and covered with round bales. Those round bales were what once was some great cover we hunted every year and contain many memories and moments we'll never forget.
I park the Jeep and let the Setter's out getting they're GPS collar's turned on and my gear ready. We cast westward into the wind toward the first couple of sloughs. As we come to a rise in sight of the cover I don't see it. What's happened I think to myself. Then as I watch the Setter's casting in the wheat stubble I notice the disk marks around where the weedy patches used to be. Then I just stand and look over the square mile I'm in realizing it's the "Reclamation". The drought brought with it the opportunity for farmers to disk right through these patches of cover so important to these birds and myself as a hunter. There was once probably a dozen of them in this field not more than an acre each but enough to hold birds. Now the farmer takes it back when he can having lost it to some recent very wet years.
The wheat stubble is long and I decide to let the Setter's work it hoping maybe we might come across birds. The only scent they pick up however is from geese that had been feeding in the stubble. It's a half mile to the pot hole which still has a weedy patch around it so we walk on. There actually it turns out to be some heavy weedy cover about 2 acres maybe and the Setter's immediately start working scent. Suddenly I see no dog's moving. It's quiet. I knew I had dog's on point but couldn't see them in the mix of weeds and grass. I check my GPS and realize they're in front of me. As I move forward I see Mick holding steady looking right in the direction I'm heading. Then I see Molly to his left 50 feet steady as well. I don't have time to check Beau's location but assume he's pointing the same birds. Suddenly two hens flush behind me and to the right. A couple seconds later 3 or 4 more birds flush to Mick's left. They were "can't tells" as the light didn't allow me to get a good look. No worries. Then Beau moves in towards Mick's location and a mature rooster then suddenly bolts to the east at 35 yards. By the time I mount my gun it was a long shot and miss. We move to the east and work more hens coming to the end of the cover. I turn back to the west and see a coyote sneak out and run across the wheat stubble having obviously been working the same birds.
The rooster looked like it didn't go far so we worked around the section line road at the end of this cover. Beau picked up scent and within seconds came to point. I thought this may be the rooster but nothing was there. Probably where he had just come down minutes before. The Setter's excited again worked up and down the section line road working another hen which Mick pointed. Then I turned them back once again to see if we walked by the rooster. I lost sight of Mick until I came to where the water crossed the road. As I looked about the cattails I caught sight of him. He was waiting for me I realized and when he saw I had seen him wagged his tail then straightened it as if to say "OK here we go!" He was actually standing in water and as I took two more steps the rooster bolted again back toward the weed patch. I fired one shot and missed again. That was great fun and I gave Mick a good "Thank you" as he wagged his tail. It's funny how he communicates with me like that and he also is the one that ends up more often than not doing the detective work on birds like that.
We walked the mile down the section line road back to the Jeep as I thought about the reclamation and what it means. These Setter's are capable of providing me with some incredible experiences if I get them on birds in the right cover. But this is season 10. We've had a great run together. We were here during some of the best days in North Dakota. I'm thankful for that more than I can say. But it will be different now. The same experiences will be possible but we'll have to travel more which means less time in the field. More hunters will be competing to hunt less cover and less birds. This isn't a cycle it's the end of an era. And that is the painful truth about "The Reclamation" .
Monday, October 22, 2012
Road Trip
The second day of intense winds brings a knock on my door at 8:00 a.m. as I sit at the dining table with my breakfast of french pancakes and coffee. A morning ritual of checking my email and visiting the news sites. Like any of that news is going to change my day! But now interrupted by all 3 Setters sounding the alarm. Having lived in a secluded rural setting for over 30 years I'm still not used to having neighbors that can make stealth approaches then suddenly rapping on your door! Bam! Bam! Bam!
In my bathrobe I respond to the racket thinking "Who in the hell could this be?" My first thought was Mary the lady two blocks north who makes it her business to know mine it seems but as I go to the door and look through the glass its definitely not Mary. Its my friend Tom who I haven't seen in several months!
Anyway I welcome Tom back to N.D. getting him a cup of coffee as I finish my breakfast catching up on each others first few days of the season. Tom had been in town early for an adult education round table at the local Catholic church that meets every week. Having gotten to know a couple of the parishioners while attending church here he was invited to attend. It was a pleasant surprise and I suggested since there was no hunting to be done in the wind that we should take a ride 40 miles south to a little German community named Hague. There is a Catholic church there on the National Historic Register I thought Tom may appreciate seeing. I explained the article just featured in the Bismarck Tribune detailing a recent renovation of the church and its history. Besides I said we can scout out some areas I haven't looked at in a while as we travel.
Tom cleaned out his front seat while I got ready to go and we were off on our road trip. Whenever Tom visits we usually meet up on a catch as catch can basis and today was no different. On the way down we drove by areas we'd hunted over the years remarking about the changes to the landscape and the times we'd had. For years we were on the road during vacations sharing these times together. Then I eventually moved out here full time and our routine changed as all things do eventually just like the landscape and bird populations.
One thing that never changes though is our ability to share and discuss our views on a myriad of subjects. We sharpened these skills having spent many long hours travelling cross country to our various hunting destinations. Good conversations. Funny conversations. Deep philosophical and profound conversations. While we may see the world differently in many ways we share the belief that only we are responsible for how we choose to live our lives.
As we approach the tiny town of Hague you see the church steeple jutting into the sky. A picturesque setting indeed. I had hunted in this area many times stopping at the local cafe for a piece of pie or two on the way home but never ventured into St Mary's Catholic church until today. As we pull up the cornerstone reads 1929. Built in the midst of the depression years solely out of the generosity of the members its an incredible sight. Almost certainly out of place in its surroundings. When we enter it's a 600 seat high ceiling church with all the statuary and art work you would expect in any big city cathedral but right out here in a little prairie town. We linger taking it all in for about 45 minutes before exiting. It's a story about faith and the perseverance of people to preserve and protect their church. Giving all they could and then some. As you look around there are no obvious signs of any wealth that may have existed in the old homes around town. None. Only the prairie that surrounds it.
We capped off our tour with coffee at the local cafe. A simple stucco building on main street if you will. We talk as a couple hunters make their way in as I ask jokingly "What are you guys doing in here today? It's not raining out there is it?" They laughed saying they just needed a piece of pie before they went out. Being I expect in their late 60's or early seventies these guys looked like long time hunting partners just enjoying each others company. Not unlike Tom and myself really.
Tom picks up the check and I head out to the truck with the wind blowing and a light drizzle coming down now as well. As I sit waiting a suburban with Minnesota license plates pulls up. An older gentleman gets out dressed in well worn hunting clothes and makes his way to the steps. He's got to be in his late seventies and moves slowly. I see his dog waiting in the front seat and notice the old hunters got an obvious wet spot in his crotch as he climbs the steps. He doesn't look like he would care if anybody noticed he had an "accident". Maybe he didn't even know. I had just seen the hunters inside who had about ten years on us and this guy had at least another ten years on top of that I'd guess. But still out there. Walking behind his dog. I watched as he disappeared inside the cafe. Thinking whats it going to be like for me at that age. Would I still be out here in twenty years?
On the way home the conversation drifted a bit as it always does covering people and events that came to mind. I couldn't help think about the changes at hand in both our lives. Will our common interest survive another decade or two. Will the conversation still be as relevant. Will we still be hunting like the old hunter I had seen. As I thought about the two guys at the next table I wondered if they ever thought about the same things. For Tom and myself the direction we each choose to go over time will most certainly be our own doing. That's the way we both lead our lives. Whether or not we'll ever have a cup of coffee in Hague again or sit beside each other in St Mary's Catholic church I don't know. Can't say. While we can't predict the future maybe we saw it today in the hunters we came across. The two guys next to us still at it in their 60's. Then the old man. Alone. Barely able to make it up the steps with his dog watching in the front seat. It all made good conversation for sure and another "Road Trip" I'll remember.
In my bathrobe I respond to the racket thinking "Who in the hell could this be?" My first thought was Mary the lady two blocks north who makes it her business to know mine it seems but as I go to the door and look through the glass its definitely not Mary. Its my friend Tom who I haven't seen in several months!
Anyway I welcome Tom back to N.D. getting him a cup of coffee as I finish my breakfast catching up on each others first few days of the season. Tom had been in town early for an adult education round table at the local Catholic church that meets every week. Having gotten to know a couple of the parishioners while attending church here he was invited to attend. It was a pleasant surprise and I suggested since there was no hunting to be done in the wind that we should take a ride 40 miles south to a little German community named Hague. There is a Catholic church there on the National Historic Register I thought Tom may appreciate seeing. I explained the article just featured in the Bismarck Tribune detailing a recent renovation of the church and its history. Besides I said we can scout out some areas I haven't looked at in a while as we travel.
Tom cleaned out his front seat while I got ready to go and we were off on our road trip. Whenever Tom visits we usually meet up on a catch as catch can basis and today was no different. On the way down we drove by areas we'd hunted over the years remarking about the changes to the landscape and the times we'd had. For years we were on the road during vacations sharing these times together. Then I eventually moved out here full time and our routine changed as all things do eventually just like the landscape and bird populations.
One thing that never changes though is our ability to share and discuss our views on a myriad of subjects. We sharpened these skills having spent many long hours travelling cross country to our various hunting destinations. Good conversations. Funny conversations. Deep philosophical and profound conversations. While we may see the world differently in many ways we share the belief that only we are responsible for how we choose to live our lives.
As we approach the tiny town of Hague you see the church steeple jutting into the sky. A picturesque setting indeed. I had hunted in this area many times stopping at the local cafe for a piece of pie or two on the way home but never ventured into St Mary's Catholic church until today. As we pull up the cornerstone reads 1929. Built in the midst of the depression years solely out of the generosity of the members its an incredible sight. Almost certainly out of place in its surroundings. When we enter it's a 600 seat high ceiling church with all the statuary and art work you would expect in any big city cathedral but right out here in a little prairie town. We linger taking it all in for about 45 minutes before exiting. It's a story about faith and the perseverance of people to preserve and protect their church. Giving all they could and then some. As you look around there are no obvious signs of any wealth that may have existed in the old homes around town. None. Only the prairie that surrounds it.
We capped off our tour with coffee at the local cafe. A simple stucco building on main street if you will. We talk as a couple hunters make their way in as I ask jokingly "What are you guys doing in here today? It's not raining out there is it?" They laughed saying they just needed a piece of pie before they went out. Being I expect in their late 60's or early seventies these guys looked like long time hunting partners just enjoying each others company. Not unlike Tom and myself really.
Tom picks up the check and I head out to the truck with the wind blowing and a light drizzle coming down now as well. As I sit waiting a suburban with Minnesota license plates pulls up. An older gentleman gets out dressed in well worn hunting clothes and makes his way to the steps. He's got to be in his late seventies and moves slowly. I see his dog waiting in the front seat and notice the old hunters got an obvious wet spot in his crotch as he climbs the steps. He doesn't look like he would care if anybody noticed he had an "accident". Maybe he didn't even know. I had just seen the hunters inside who had about ten years on us and this guy had at least another ten years on top of that I'd guess. But still out there. Walking behind his dog. I watched as he disappeared inside the cafe. Thinking whats it going to be like for me at that age. Would I still be out here in twenty years?
On the way home the conversation drifted a bit as it always does covering people and events that came to mind. I couldn't help think about the changes at hand in both our lives. Will our common interest survive another decade or two. Will the conversation still be as relevant. Will we still be hunting like the old hunter I had seen. As I thought about the two guys at the next table I wondered if they ever thought about the same things. For Tom and myself the direction we each choose to go over time will most certainly be our own doing. That's the way we both lead our lives. Whether or not we'll ever have a cup of coffee in Hague again or sit beside each other in St Mary's Catholic church I don't know. Can't say. While we can't predict the future maybe we saw it today in the hunters we came across. The two guys next to us still at it in their 60's. Then the old man. Alone. Barely able to make it up the steps with his dog watching in the front seat. It all made good conversation for sure and another "Road Trip" I'll remember.
Winds 40 to 60 Mph
The first week of the 2012 pheasant season started out with moderate temperatures and wind but after 5 days turned into more typical North Dakota weather. The wind machine really cranked it up for Wednesday and Thursday with sustained winds in the 40 to 60 Mph range. This virtually shut down hunting with only a few brave souls seen out in the intense wind.
Actually for me it was a nice break in the action having been hunting since the first week in September trying to figure out a best strategy to beat the Sharptail firmly positioned in the sea of corn. It sure was easy when wheat was king in this region! So what to do with this unexpected break? An easy question actually. Day after day in the field creates lots of chores on days like this.
Top of the list was cleaning up the Setters. Even though the grooming process is ongoing a thorough job of combing,clipping and bathing was in order. These are not "slough dog's". They are beautiful creatures with silky soft hair that blows in the wind as they surf across the terrain searching for scent. A perfect compliment to the landscape. Big expanses of grass and open pasture is where they belong and perform they're magic. However in season 10 the reality is that the birds have been left with little refuge in those areas due to the drought and the loss of thousands of acres of CRP grass. Whats left if you want to pursue the wild and unpredictable Rooster's is the cattails,weed patches and cockle burr infested depressions within crop fields and edges called "sloughs". In wet years all of these contain water but this year the edges are very muddy causing the Setters to wade into mud to drink and lay about cooling off. After a day of "slumming" as it were they come home totally trashed. Both muddy and full of burrs. So today it's an inside job. Into the bathtub after a thorough combing and clip job. Complete with cream rinse and nail clipping. They know this ritual well and are always glad to be clean once again quickly falling asleep as they relax as the wind howls.
During the first month of season 10 I've worn 4 pairs of boots rotating as I dry them on the boot dryer. I've had all these boots for several years. A couple have been resoled and due to being well maintained have endured the years of walking mile after mile welcoming being oiled after cycles of wetness to drying. They are essential tools in the game of bird hunting. I love good boots as without them you can't play this game. Not for very long anyway. The first time I ordered a pair of custom made boots I was skeptical as to their value but was soon convinced. Along with good wool socks they are as essential as a good bird dog! So today I oil all the boots and replace a set of laces on a pair. The house is taking on the smells of oiled leather and dog shampoo as the Setters sleep soundly raising an occasional eye as I go to and from the front porch where I keep my gear in a storage room. There sit 4 more pair of boots awaiting rotation into the mix.
My favorite Sharptail gun is a 20 gauge Galazan RBL. I also use a 12 gauge Ruger Gold Label and a couple 16 gauge guns. All double's. Today is no better day of course to thoroughly go over all the guns as well. It's fun to rotate through them discovering what I like about each one once again. Kind of like revisiting an old friend if you will. I remember as I go the moments that stand out in my mind as I clean and oil them all. The task stops being a chore and turns into a welcomed walk down memory lane as the wind continues shaking the trees and the windows as well.
Each season I seem to pick a favorite pair of pants which when outfitted with suspenders I wear day after day. The only break in the rotation will be if they don't dry by the next morning. This year its a pair if Filson pants. They will not be washed untill the last day of the season. I have often joked that I believe I have enough hunting pants to last the rest of my life. It's really no joke as I believe it to be true. I patch and repair them until there's no hope. Like everything else there are favorites. But anyway the mud wears off and the blood fades eventually. I check the pockets removing any debris and replace the batteries in my Garmin receiver reattaching it to the belt strap and replacing it in the right pocket of my pants. The Garmin collars are hooked up to the charger as well. I hang the pants up today on the front porch coat rack. My objective is to clear the dining room table if only for a day. The nylon mesh hunting shirts go to the wash of which I have 4. My leather vest is cleared of debris and extra shotgun shells. I then check to make sure my spare Jeep key is where its supposed to be in the zippered pocket on the inside. Check.
My shell /game bags are next to get the once over. I prefer not to wear a vest so I rotate between two bags I set up for whatever guns I'm using. This means 3 gauges of shells and in addition both lead and steel shot. It can make quite a mess out of the shell bag and the back of the Jeep as I switch from one to the other. The Jeep will wait for another day but I make quick work out of emptying the bags and sort the remaining shells discarding feathers and spent shell casings.
To the smell of clean dog's, guns and oiled boots I now add a little Murphys Oil soap to a bucket of hot water and scrub the vinyl floor on my hands and knees. The mop sponge is worn out so its on all 4's as I cover the whole downstairs. Not such a bad job really. The water turns dark quickly as the fine dust from that black slough mud comes off the floor. This is designed to be a hunter's house. Lived in and enjoyed by both hunter's and dog's. I'm just a little lemon oil on the woodwork away from enjoying an afternoon cup of coffee now. All the time I can hear the wind gusting leaving no doubt there is nothing else to be done on this day.
The Setters are all curled up and as I stop to pet them can feel the heat they generate as they dry out in the fetal position each one in their chosen spot. It's the first day of this intense wind and we've made good use of the time setting ourselves up for a break in the weather come Friday. One of the things I enjoy and laugh about as well is how I seem to have adapted to a dogs life. I'm talking about the afternoon nap time. There's a definite routine to it. And I join them as they sleep away the afternoon with "Winds 40 to 60 Mph".
Actually for me it was a nice break in the action having been hunting since the first week in September trying to figure out a best strategy to beat the Sharptail firmly positioned in the sea of corn. It sure was easy when wheat was king in this region! So what to do with this unexpected break? An easy question actually. Day after day in the field creates lots of chores on days like this.
Top of the list was cleaning up the Setters. Even though the grooming process is ongoing a thorough job of combing,clipping and bathing was in order. These are not "slough dog's". They are beautiful creatures with silky soft hair that blows in the wind as they surf across the terrain searching for scent. A perfect compliment to the landscape. Big expanses of grass and open pasture is where they belong and perform they're magic. However in season 10 the reality is that the birds have been left with little refuge in those areas due to the drought and the loss of thousands of acres of CRP grass. Whats left if you want to pursue the wild and unpredictable Rooster's is the cattails,weed patches and cockle burr infested depressions within crop fields and edges called "sloughs". In wet years all of these contain water but this year the edges are very muddy causing the Setters to wade into mud to drink and lay about cooling off. After a day of "slumming" as it were they come home totally trashed. Both muddy and full of burrs. So today it's an inside job. Into the bathtub after a thorough combing and clip job. Complete with cream rinse and nail clipping. They know this ritual well and are always glad to be clean once again quickly falling asleep as they relax as the wind howls.
During the first month of season 10 I've worn 4 pairs of boots rotating as I dry them on the boot dryer. I've had all these boots for several years. A couple have been resoled and due to being well maintained have endured the years of walking mile after mile welcoming being oiled after cycles of wetness to drying. They are essential tools in the game of bird hunting. I love good boots as without them you can't play this game. Not for very long anyway. The first time I ordered a pair of custom made boots I was skeptical as to their value but was soon convinced. Along with good wool socks they are as essential as a good bird dog! So today I oil all the boots and replace a set of laces on a pair. The house is taking on the smells of oiled leather and dog shampoo as the Setters sleep soundly raising an occasional eye as I go to and from the front porch where I keep my gear in a storage room. There sit 4 more pair of boots awaiting rotation into the mix.
My favorite Sharptail gun is a 20 gauge Galazan RBL. I also use a 12 gauge Ruger Gold Label and a couple 16 gauge guns. All double's. Today is no better day of course to thoroughly go over all the guns as well. It's fun to rotate through them discovering what I like about each one once again. Kind of like revisiting an old friend if you will. I remember as I go the moments that stand out in my mind as I clean and oil them all. The task stops being a chore and turns into a welcomed walk down memory lane as the wind continues shaking the trees and the windows as well.
Each season I seem to pick a favorite pair of pants which when outfitted with suspenders I wear day after day. The only break in the rotation will be if they don't dry by the next morning. This year its a pair if Filson pants. They will not be washed untill the last day of the season. I have often joked that I believe I have enough hunting pants to last the rest of my life. It's really no joke as I believe it to be true. I patch and repair them until there's no hope. Like everything else there are favorites. But anyway the mud wears off and the blood fades eventually. I check the pockets removing any debris and replace the batteries in my Garmin receiver reattaching it to the belt strap and replacing it in the right pocket of my pants. The Garmin collars are hooked up to the charger as well. I hang the pants up today on the front porch coat rack. My objective is to clear the dining room table if only for a day. The nylon mesh hunting shirts go to the wash of which I have 4. My leather vest is cleared of debris and extra shotgun shells. I then check to make sure my spare Jeep key is where its supposed to be in the zippered pocket on the inside. Check.
My shell /game bags are next to get the once over. I prefer not to wear a vest so I rotate between two bags I set up for whatever guns I'm using. This means 3 gauges of shells and in addition both lead and steel shot. It can make quite a mess out of the shell bag and the back of the Jeep as I switch from one to the other. The Jeep will wait for another day but I make quick work out of emptying the bags and sort the remaining shells discarding feathers and spent shell casings.
To the smell of clean dog's, guns and oiled boots I now add a little Murphys Oil soap to a bucket of hot water and scrub the vinyl floor on my hands and knees. The mop sponge is worn out so its on all 4's as I cover the whole downstairs. Not such a bad job really. The water turns dark quickly as the fine dust from that black slough mud comes off the floor. This is designed to be a hunter's house. Lived in and enjoyed by both hunter's and dog's. I'm just a little lemon oil on the woodwork away from enjoying an afternoon cup of coffee now. All the time I can hear the wind gusting leaving no doubt there is nothing else to be done on this day.
The Setters are all curled up and as I stop to pet them can feel the heat they generate as they dry out in the fetal position each one in their chosen spot. It's the first day of this intense wind and we've made good use of the time setting ourselves up for a break in the weather come Friday. One of the things I enjoy and laugh about as well is how I seem to have adapted to a dogs life. I'm talking about the afternoon nap time. There's a definite routine to it. And I join them as they sleep away the afternoon with "Winds 40 to 60 Mph".
Friday, October 12, 2012
The Circus Comes To Town
This is it. The eve of the 2012 pheasant season in North Dakota. The day the big rigs pull into town. I mean the fancy pickups with the custom dog boxes and trailers. The Cadillac Escalades that do double duty as the status vehicle at home and on the prairie.
As the crews get settled in they'll head out to scout the surrounding sections. Except this year it's all different. The grass is gone. The CRP has vanished and they'll be stunned at how bare and stark a landscape it is. Dry. Unfamiliar. Where will we hunt they'll ask. Where are the birds?
The majority of the crews hunt in gangs. The lab is the common breed of dog they use many of which haven't seen a day in the field in quite a while. But they'll be expected to perform miracles tommorow. How successful they'll be I can't say. There's no taking turns shooting with these crews. The mission is take no prisoners. Bird up and everyone shoots. Several times usually. Those tales will be told in the bars tommorow evening.
However I'm flattered by their presence knowing I live in a place bird hunters from all over the country deem a worthwhile destination. The average age goes up every year as this isn't a sport that seems to be drawing young people as time goes on among the traveling crowd anyway. Most of these guys will wonder after this season what happened. How could habitat and bird numbers change so dramatically year to year. Maybe this is it they'll think. A turning point. Maybe not worth coming next year.
As with any circus the costumes mask the true person underneath. So it is with these people. Behind the fancy rigs and gear you may or may not meet a true sportsman. You may or may not meet someone who has respect for fellow hunters and landowners let alone their dog's. I look for the older guys that travel in pairs. They're not loud but polite and don't display like peacocks with patches from this and that all over they're clothes. These are the guys that have real stories to tell and something to learn from if you can get them to talk because you see they've got no one to impress. That's not what it's about for them. On the other hand these days a field with their dog's and hunting partner mean the world to them. They respect the opportunity and any hospitality that's extended to them. I can spot them from quite a ways away.
The date I now wait for is the beginning of the North Dakota deer season. All the out of state traffic comes to a standstill and the local hunters then gas up their pickups and drive around trying to spot deer. This leaves the fields and pastures open. A feeling of solitude once again. Uninterrupted. Any late harvested crops reveal new groups of birds unharmed by the previous 3 weeks onslaught of gangs and their militia's with the magnum high speed loads. I'll stop to pick up their garbage. Shot shells, candy wrappers and those plastic soda bottles our culture just can't seem to live without now. I will never understand the littering but accept the sudden solitude as a true reward for choosing to live here. As quickly as "The Circus Comes To Town" it's gone again as the Setters and I turn into the wind.....
As the crews get settled in they'll head out to scout the surrounding sections. Except this year it's all different. The grass is gone. The CRP has vanished and they'll be stunned at how bare and stark a landscape it is. Dry. Unfamiliar. Where will we hunt they'll ask. Where are the birds?
The majority of the crews hunt in gangs. The lab is the common breed of dog they use many of which haven't seen a day in the field in quite a while. But they'll be expected to perform miracles tommorow. How successful they'll be I can't say. There's no taking turns shooting with these crews. The mission is take no prisoners. Bird up and everyone shoots. Several times usually. Those tales will be told in the bars tommorow evening.
However I'm flattered by their presence knowing I live in a place bird hunters from all over the country deem a worthwhile destination. The average age goes up every year as this isn't a sport that seems to be drawing young people as time goes on among the traveling crowd anyway. Most of these guys will wonder after this season what happened. How could habitat and bird numbers change so dramatically year to year. Maybe this is it they'll think. A turning point. Maybe not worth coming next year.
As with any circus the costumes mask the true person underneath. So it is with these people. Behind the fancy rigs and gear you may or may not meet a true sportsman. You may or may not meet someone who has respect for fellow hunters and landowners let alone their dog's. I look for the older guys that travel in pairs. They're not loud but polite and don't display like peacocks with patches from this and that all over they're clothes. These are the guys that have real stories to tell and something to learn from if you can get them to talk because you see they've got no one to impress. That's not what it's about for them. On the other hand these days a field with their dog's and hunting partner mean the world to them. They respect the opportunity and any hospitality that's extended to them. I can spot them from quite a ways away.
The date I now wait for is the beginning of the North Dakota deer season. All the out of state traffic comes to a standstill and the local hunters then gas up their pickups and drive around trying to spot deer. This leaves the fields and pastures open. A feeling of solitude once again. Uninterrupted. Any late harvested crops reveal new groups of birds unharmed by the previous 3 weeks onslaught of gangs and their militia's with the magnum high speed loads. I'll stop to pick up their garbage. Shot shells, candy wrappers and those plastic soda bottles our culture just can't seem to live without now. I will never understand the littering but accept the sudden solitude as a true reward for choosing to live here. As quickly as "The Circus Comes To Town" it's gone again as the Setters and I turn into the wind.....
We're From Michigan
With just a few days until the resident 2012 pheasant season opened here in North Dakota my neighbor Roger and I took a ride to scout some spots to the east a few miles. With the amount of acreage in corn this year I wanted to check on the harvest progress before deciding where I would hunt opening day with the Setters.
I had started the morning coming out to the Jeep to find the dome light had been left on over night running down the battery. This happens because the dogs bump the switch on the over head console. I suspect Beau as the perpetrator due to his height. We had been in the field the previous day with a lot of in and out of the Jeep so no surprise as this happens more than once throughout the season. So after jump starting the Jeep I wanted to let it run and charge up a bit. A good reason to ask my neighbor Roger if he wanted to go for a ride. Having been the former county agent Roger knows his way around and I enjoy his anecdotes of experiences he's had hunting throughout the years.
We were cruising along a secondary road noting the cover available within the harvested corn that being brushy areas along sloughs, fence rows and rock piles. We came over a small rise and noticed 2 hunters walking the road edge with two labs. I stopped not wanting to interfere as I thought they must be grouse hunting. Roger said "Go ahead lets say hello". So we pulled up ahead and I said to Roger " I think the guy on the right has a rooster in his hand!" Roger thought they were probably duck hunting as we pulled along side. Sure enough they come up to the windows and the guy's holding a rooster. I said " Hey guys how's it going? They said they'd been duck hunting as evidenced by the black camo on their faces. I commented on the rooster and they said yeah that's the second one we got. I looked at Roger and smiled saying "Well guys the season doesn't open till Saturday!" They acted surprised of course saying thanks for telling us. We said we did not plan on reporting them but suggested they make tracks to which they replied " We're going to get the hell out of here!" I reminded them to not waste the bird as we drove on.
I don't know many people that have never made a mistake in the field conscious or otherwise in my life time. Whether or not these guys were telling the truth was their business and only they own the responsibility with ignorance being no excuse. I didn't want to clutter my day over their obvious blunder putting themselves in jeopardy with a potential sizable fine and loss of hunting privileges It's my hope that the way we handled the encounter was enough cause for reflection on their part to make sure it doesn't happen again. After all it's the best outcome I would hope for if I ever found myself in such a predicament which would be highly unlikely. However for example I hunt upland birds in waterfowl production areas quite frequently and have game bags set up with either steel or lead shot. Sometimes I grab the wrong bag and forget or other times realize I've got some lead shells in a pocket. A violation and a mistake unintentional but a mistake. I realize this most of the time before I'm into the hunt to far but it happens and I go back to the Jeep and switch out my bag. No fine and no warden necessary.
I forgot to ask if these guys were from the U.P of Michigan or the State of Michigan. They weren't missing any front teeth or have an accent "ehh" so probably were not "Yoopers den". That would have made it easier to understand them not knowing if the season was open or not. So Roger and I of course weren't fooled by the "Really we didn't know" but instead believe getting caught by fellow sportsman if they were indeed from the State of Michigan should serve as a sufficient deterrent. When I run into Michigan hunters in the future I'll be sure to share the story to make sure they don't make the same mistake!
I had started the morning coming out to the Jeep to find the dome light had been left on over night running down the battery. This happens because the dogs bump the switch on the over head console. I suspect Beau as the perpetrator due to his height. We had been in the field the previous day with a lot of in and out of the Jeep so no surprise as this happens more than once throughout the season. So after jump starting the Jeep I wanted to let it run and charge up a bit. A good reason to ask my neighbor Roger if he wanted to go for a ride. Having been the former county agent Roger knows his way around and I enjoy his anecdotes of experiences he's had hunting throughout the years.
We were cruising along a secondary road noting the cover available within the harvested corn that being brushy areas along sloughs, fence rows and rock piles. We came over a small rise and noticed 2 hunters walking the road edge with two labs. I stopped not wanting to interfere as I thought they must be grouse hunting. Roger said "Go ahead lets say hello". So we pulled up ahead and I said to Roger " I think the guy on the right has a rooster in his hand!" Roger thought they were probably duck hunting as we pulled along side. Sure enough they come up to the windows and the guy's holding a rooster. I said " Hey guys how's it going? They said they'd been duck hunting as evidenced by the black camo on their faces. I commented on the rooster and they said yeah that's the second one we got. I looked at Roger and smiled saying "Well guys the season doesn't open till Saturday!" They acted surprised of course saying thanks for telling us. We said we did not plan on reporting them but suggested they make tracks to which they replied " We're going to get the hell out of here!" I reminded them to not waste the bird as we drove on.
I don't know many people that have never made a mistake in the field conscious or otherwise in my life time. Whether or not these guys were telling the truth was their business and only they own the responsibility with ignorance being no excuse. I didn't want to clutter my day over their obvious blunder putting themselves in jeopardy with a potential sizable fine and loss of hunting privileges It's my hope that the way we handled the encounter was enough cause for reflection on their part to make sure it doesn't happen again. After all it's the best outcome I would hope for if I ever found myself in such a predicament which would be highly unlikely. However for example I hunt upland birds in waterfowl production areas quite frequently and have game bags set up with either steel or lead shot. Sometimes I grab the wrong bag and forget or other times realize I've got some lead shells in a pocket. A violation and a mistake unintentional but a mistake. I realize this most of the time before I'm into the hunt to far but it happens and I go back to the Jeep and switch out my bag. No fine and no warden necessary.
I forgot to ask if these guys were from the U.P of Michigan or the State of Michigan. They weren't missing any front teeth or have an accent "ehh" so probably were not "Yoopers den". That would have made it easier to understand them not knowing if the season was open or not. So Roger and I of course weren't fooled by the "Really we didn't know" but instead believe getting caught by fellow sportsman if they were indeed from the State of Michigan should serve as a sufficient deterrent. When I run into Michigan hunters in the future I'll be sure to share the story to make sure they don't make the same mistake!
Tuesday, October 9, 2012
Winds 20 To 30 Mph
With 2012 being a record warm year I knew at the start of the season in September it would be difficult getting on birds for a number of reasons. Along with the heat there was the loss of thousands of acres of CRP land used by all species. The pastures were dry and in poor condition and most hay fields left little cover having been cut twice and or grazed as well. Even sloughs which were mostly dry this year had been mowed. The big factor in addition to all this was the transition from primarily wheat to primarily corn. In the years wheat was king the Sharptail were exposed early and then used the alfalfa and pastures but now the corn offers them relief from the hot sun and a food source well into fall making it difficult to find them in the open where a pointing dog can enjoy the challenge of setting a covey without busting them before I can get there.
So given all that what to do when the forecast is wind wind wind. Which in North Dakota is quite often. As a downhill skier I learned early on if you wait for the perfect day to head for the mountain you won't get many days in skiing! And so it is with bird hunting which is why I loaded up the Setter's yesterday for a full day in the field with a forecast featuring wind which was all of 20 to 30 mph!
My objective was two fold. First of all get out and just have some fun watching the pups cast about hoping to catch a covey of Sharptail getting up into the wind. Secondly to scout out some areas where corn may have been picked that may hold both pheasant and grouse. With the pheasant opener just days away I justified being the only guy out there scouting and Sharptail hunting I suspect.
First stop was a half section of hay ground that my neighbor had reported in talking to the landowner had a good number of Sharptail when it was cut in July. Also the adjoining section had been in corn and was recently cut exposing several sloughs with lots of weedy cover around them. This was owned by some folks two miles north. One of the ladies from the local Pheasants Forever chapter had called me earlier in the week asking me to donate some of my home baked pies for the local nursing home fundraising auction in October and in thanking me for committing to do so said I was more than welcome to hunt their property as well. That section with the corn recently picked was theirs.
So I let the Setters out and they cast about checking the edges and around the rockpiles glad to be at it once again. Beau and Molly pointed a group of pheasants right off the bat around the edge of a slough. We then worked towards the corn and a Sharptail single flushed wild from the edge. I rushed ahead hoping there were more but no cigar. There were however more pheasants up ahead as all 3 dogs pointed another small group around a weedy rockpile. The wind was incredibly strong but we were having fun and learning about this new ground. After a foray back into the hay field with no birds we came back down the edge where it met the corn and again all 3 dogs converged on point with a beautiful rooster bolting into the air reminding me how exciting these birds can be despite often times getting frustrated by their antics!
Now being a half mile from the Jeep I decided to see if we could locate that Sharptail but had no such luck but the Setters did work several more pheasants before we were done. As I loaded the pups I had to laugh at them thoroughly covered in cockle burrs! What the hell I thought. 'We're just having fun!". And like every day it was ours to do as we wished. Together.
Having logged another several hundred acres to hunt we headed 40 miles east to check some more ground. These were spots I'd hunted every year. The first of which we call the "Honey Hole." Ten years ago this half section surrounded by high hills was in alfalfa and was used by the surrounding Sharptail to raise their broods. It was an excellent spot for pointing dogs to work the early season. With many memories going through my mind I walked it again this windy day with Molly. However it's a cut soybean field today and all that was left for cover were the rock piles and edges. But we made a 3 mile trek around the outside. Molly pointed along a tree belt and as I walked forward a Sharptail flushed 50 yards ahead undoubtedly having recently been sitting by the trees. I fired two shots as it arced closest to me but it chuckled as it flew on with the wind. There are other spots in this vicinity we have fond memories of but we'd save them for another day.
Our last stop was another 6 miles east on a rolling ridge of a waterfowl production area overlooking several pot holes. It's another run I like to make every year and I was betting some Sharptail would be using it this windy day to hide from the strong gusts that just wouldn't quit. I was wearing my beaver western hat because it has a chin strap and is the only hat I could keep on besides a stocking cap which I don't like to wear. It was Beau's turn and we made a forty minute hike around the area with no results. The only thing that got Beau's attention was the fresh cow manure. What dog's see in this stuff I don't know but I had to scold him several times before we headed back to the Jeep.
On the way back I stopped and visited with some friends in the area bringing us close to supper time and with the somewhat sweet smell of cockle burrs in the Jeep we rode home having spent the whole day in the field. No birds in the game bag but lots of future possibilities as well as friends and ,memories revisited. A very good day indeed.
So given all that what to do when the forecast is wind wind wind. Which in North Dakota is quite often. As a downhill skier I learned early on if you wait for the perfect day to head for the mountain you won't get many days in skiing! And so it is with bird hunting which is why I loaded up the Setter's yesterday for a full day in the field with a forecast featuring wind which was all of 20 to 30 mph!
My objective was two fold. First of all get out and just have some fun watching the pups cast about hoping to catch a covey of Sharptail getting up into the wind. Secondly to scout out some areas where corn may have been picked that may hold both pheasant and grouse. With the pheasant opener just days away I justified being the only guy out there scouting and Sharptail hunting I suspect.
First stop was a half section of hay ground that my neighbor had reported in talking to the landowner had a good number of Sharptail when it was cut in July. Also the adjoining section had been in corn and was recently cut exposing several sloughs with lots of weedy cover around them. This was owned by some folks two miles north. One of the ladies from the local Pheasants Forever chapter had called me earlier in the week asking me to donate some of my home baked pies for the local nursing home fundraising auction in October and in thanking me for committing to do so said I was more than welcome to hunt their property as well. That section with the corn recently picked was theirs.
So I let the Setters out and they cast about checking the edges and around the rockpiles glad to be at it once again. Beau and Molly pointed a group of pheasants right off the bat around the edge of a slough. We then worked towards the corn and a Sharptail single flushed wild from the edge. I rushed ahead hoping there were more but no cigar. There were however more pheasants up ahead as all 3 dogs pointed another small group around a weedy rockpile. The wind was incredibly strong but we were having fun and learning about this new ground. After a foray back into the hay field with no birds we came back down the edge where it met the corn and again all 3 dogs converged on point with a beautiful rooster bolting into the air reminding me how exciting these birds can be despite often times getting frustrated by their antics!
Now being a half mile from the Jeep I decided to see if we could locate that Sharptail but had no such luck but the Setters did work several more pheasants before we were done. As I loaded the pups I had to laugh at them thoroughly covered in cockle burrs! What the hell I thought. 'We're just having fun!". And like every day it was ours to do as we wished. Together.
Having logged another several hundred acres to hunt we headed 40 miles east to check some more ground. These were spots I'd hunted every year. The first of which we call the "Honey Hole." Ten years ago this half section surrounded by high hills was in alfalfa and was used by the surrounding Sharptail to raise their broods. It was an excellent spot for pointing dogs to work the early season. With many memories going through my mind I walked it again this windy day with Molly. However it's a cut soybean field today and all that was left for cover were the rock piles and edges. But we made a 3 mile trek around the outside. Molly pointed along a tree belt and as I walked forward a Sharptail flushed 50 yards ahead undoubtedly having recently been sitting by the trees. I fired two shots as it arced closest to me but it chuckled as it flew on with the wind. There are other spots in this vicinity we have fond memories of but we'd save them for another day.
Our last stop was another 6 miles east on a rolling ridge of a waterfowl production area overlooking several pot holes. It's another run I like to make every year and I was betting some Sharptail would be using it this windy day to hide from the strong gusts that just wouldn't quit. I was wearing my beaver western hat because it has a chin strap and is the only hat I could keep on besides a stocking cap which I don't like to wear. It was Beau's turn and we made a forty minute hike around the area with no results. The only thing that got Beau's attention was the fresh cow manure. What dog's see in this stuff I don't know but I had to scold him several times before we headed back to the Jeep.
On the way back I stopped and visited with some friends in the area bringing us close to supper time and with the somewhat sweet smell of cockle burrs in the Jeep we rode home having spent the whole day in the field. No birds in the game bag but lots of future possibilities as well as friends and ,memories revisited. A very good day indeed.
Trespassing Sort Of
There is just some country that looks so good it makes me want to walk it with the Setters just for the experience. If it holds birds and we find them that's the reward. There's a couple of sections 12 miles north in some gentle rolling hills that fits that description. However there is no public access so I had to contact the landowner to make arrangements to hunt. I did that 3 years ago and every season I call to make sure we can still hunt. This area does hold both Sharptail and Pheasants while not in great abundance but being such a picturesque setting it's worth hunting to me.
There's alfalfa,wheat, and barley interspersed among the hills and valleys with some ridges that have steep points and bowls hidden from the wind that the Sharptail love. This farmer rotates his cattle so that the pastures are always left with plenty of cover having healthy stands of buffalo berries and cattails along the waterways.
I never take many birds here but every season shoot a few of both species mostly late season as it's pretty with a little snow cover over looking a lake to the east a few miles. This year on my scouting runs in July checking for how successful the hatch was I happened to see Sharptail along the road in this area so decided to hunt it earlier than normal. The amount of corn in the area this year though made the Sharptail hard to find anywhere else as they preferred the cover of the corn as a food source and relief from the intense heat we experienced all summer.
The Setters and I had made a trip up there last Saturday as we had located a nice covey earlier in the week without getting close to them and decided to try our luck on a day without as much wind. Upon arriving I noticed there was 80 acres of corn that was now picked on the southeast edge of the section so we started in the pasture adjacent to it betting the birds would be still close to the food source they'd most likely been living in all season for the most part.
After an hour we had moved a half a dozen birds without getting a point or a good shot so I opted to head back to the Jeep and circle around to the north hunting a ridge line I had watched a few birds head for. This was best a one dog run so I let Molly out and we headed for the ridge along a barley field which sloped sharply away to the north. Within a couple hundred yards a bird flushed wild off the top of a point and I shot and missed. Molly was working nicely up and down the sides within close range and after becoming birdy around one of the bowl formations another bird flushed straight away which I also missed having only a quick window of opportunity before it vanished over the hill.
As I walked to the top of the ridge I saw a man coming towards us directly in the path in which I had just shot. My first thought was this guy almost just got himself shot! His green pickup was parked along the fence line. With an "orange" Cabellas hunting vest and a "big" hunting knife hanging off his belt walking up to me as I was hunting I knew what this was about. His question as he approached was " Can you tell me what you're doing on this land?" I said well I've got permission from the owner and stated his name. The gentleman then told me he was a cousin and had been given permission to post the property. I stated again that I had just talked to the landowner earlier in the week. It was obvious he was upset that I was there and I assured him that I had plenty of places to hunt and did not plan on causing him any distress. But he went on to complain about the neighbors ruining his hunting in one way or another and let me know this used to be his fathers farm but was sold years ago and he now had no where else to hunt as he lives in Mandan 80 miles to the west coming here on weekends with his friends. Also known as "Gang Hunting". And also knowing there are endless public and private land hunting opportunities between here and there I listened while he went on and on about the history of the area and complaining about various other things.
I didn't want to spend any more time with this guy so asked if it was all right if I completed my run and he said sure if my cousin gave you permission go ahead but then repeated that he was here every weekend blah blah blah. So Molly and I moved on and within just a few minutes on the other side of the hill I had shot our first Sharptail of the morning for her which she proudly retrieved.
While I did certainly have permission to be hunting there I was trespassing in his mind and this type of interaction is exactly why I like to hunt public access land. There then is no disputing who has permission to hunt where and when. No contacting the landowner. No looking over your shoulder every time a truck drives by. And no misunderstandings with relatives. I will still hunt this area occasionally but during the week so as to not upset the balance so to speak! It's still a beautiful setting and worth the walk even if I'm" Trespassing Sort Of".
There's alfalfa,wheat, and barley interspersed among the hills and valleys with some ridges that have steep points and bowls hidden from the wind that the Sharptail love. This farmer rotates his cattle so that the pastures are always left with plenty of cover having healthy stands of buffalo berries and cattails along the waterways.
I never take many birds here but every season shoot a few of both species mostly late season as it's pretty with a little snow cover over looking a lake to the east a few miles. This year on my scouting runs in July checking for how successful the hatch was I happened to see Sharptail along the road in this area so decided to hunt it earlier than normal. The amount of corn in the area this year though made the Sharptail hard to find anywhere else as they preferred the cover of the corn as a food source and relief from the intense heat we experienced all summer.
The Setters and I had made a trip up there last Saturday as we had located a nice covey earlier in the week without getting close to them and decided to try our luck on a day without as much wind. Upon arriving I noticed there was 80 acres of corn that was now picked on the southeast edge of the section so we started in the pasture adjacent to it betting the birds would be still close to the food source they'd most likely been living in all season for the most part.
After an hour we had moved a half a dozen birds without getting a point or a good shot so I opted to head back to the Jeep and circle around to the north hunting a ridge line I had watched a few birds head for. This was best a one dog run so I let Molly out and we headed for the ridge along a barley field which sloped sharply away to the north. Within a couple hundred yards a bird flushed wild off the top of a point and I shot and missed. Molly was working nicely up and down the sides within close range and after becoming birdy around one of the bowl formations another bird flushed straight away which I also missed having only a quick window of opportunity before it vanished over the hill.
As I walked to the top of the ridge I saw a man coming towards us directly in the path in which I had just shot. My first thought was this guy almost just got himself shot! His green pickup was parked along the fence line. With an "orange" Cabellas hunting vest and a "big" hunting knife hanging off his belt walking up to me as I was hunting I knew what this was about. His question as he approached was " Can you tell me what you're doing on this land?" I said well I've got permission from the owner and stated his name. The gentleman then told me he was a cousin and had been given permission to post the property. I stated again that I had just talked to the landowner earlier in the week. It was obvious he was upset that I was there and I assured him that I had plenty of places to hunt and did not plan on causing him any distress. But he went on to complain about the neighbors ruining his hunting in one way or another and let me know this used to be his fathers farm but was sold years ago and he now had no where else to hunt as he lives in Mandan 80 miles to the west coming here on weekends with his friends. Also known as "Gang Hunting". And also knowing there are endless public and private land hunting opportunities between here and there I listened while he went on and on about the history of the area and complaining about various other things.
I didn't want to spend any more time with this guy so asked if it was all right if I completed my run and he said sure if my cousin gave you permission go ahead but then repeated that he was here every weekend blah blah blah. So Molly and I moved on and within just a few minutes on the other side of the hill I had shot our first Sharptail of the morning for her which she proudly retrieved.
While I did certainly have permission to be hunting there I was trespassing in his mind and this type of interaction is exactly why I like to hunt public access land. There then is no disputing who has permission to hunt where and when. No contacting the landowner. No looking over your shoulder every time a truck drives by. And no misunderstandings with relatives. I will still hunt this area occasionally but during the week so as to not upset the balance so to speak! It's still a beautiful setting and worth the walk even if I'm" Trespassing Sort Of".
Friday, August 31, 2012
More Along The Way
As we approached the sight of our morning run yesterday there was a group of Sharptail alongside the road milling about with their necks extended eyeing the adjacent hay field. They took flight to the east as we turned in to park and I thought we'd try to find them as we circled back west towards the Jeep.
With birds in the air before the pups were even on the ground they were more than excited. The temperature was finally reasonable after two days of intense heat making this our morning to stretch our legs once again. The Setter's were off to the east heading to a fence line 200 yards ahead when I heard the chuckling of birds taking flight. Tails were wagging and noses to the ground as they found the sight of the covey that had busted around a little rise just the other side of the fence.
The rancher had been rotating his cattle from pasture to hay field sectioning it off and allowing them to graze the alfalfa growth that had occurred since the June cutting. This was no good news for us as it further eliminated any cover for the birds. But we covered the ground to the west coming back through some heavier cover hoping to pin down some birds. As we approached from the west I came over a knoll to find the Setters on point but got no closer than 75 yards and the birds busted. With the cover so sparse the sight advantage was all in their favor this morning.
Moving through the heavier alfalfa sure enough Molly picked up scent first and pointed a double backed by Mick. Beau was casting up ahead along the edge. Molly worked ahead to the west pointing again. This time a group of three Sharptail with Mick again at her back. Beau was birdy but I suspect his birds had moved into the adjacent corn field. It was a nice end to the run as we were just 100 yards from the Jeep and took our time walking back. Such a great thing to be able to get these dog's on wild birds so frequently.
The rest of the morning I spent working on some maintenance around the house repairing some old single hung windows and painting the trim. I was up on the porch roof working on the front dormer windows when someone called my name from below. It was Mary from 2 blocks north. A retired lady in her late seventies who has made it her mission to keep track of what I'm doing it seems. Mary means well and living alone without family walks around town with the aid of a walker visiting as she goes putting more miles on that walker than her car I suspect. Her message for me was of course that I had better be careful up there and what was I doing up that high in the first place! I said " Don't worry Mary its not my time yet!" She replied " Well that's what Judy thought too but she died just last week and she was only 58!" Mary went on to tell me about her kids living down in the New Orleans area and about the storm. I'm trying to be a good sport and listen as I'm on the roof but thinking you know if you keep distracting me I probably will fall off the roof!
Mary cautioned me again before she was on her way saying if I fell onto the steps that'd be really bad! So back to work I go for about 10 minutes when I hear my name again. This time it's my neighbor to the east wondering what I'm doing up there as she heard hammering. I explain what I had just told Mary. Pauline then tells me our neighbor Erwin 1 block east had died this morning of a heart attack. Erwin age 93 had had an attack 2 weeks ago and after coming home from the hospital was driving around town at parade speed and drinking free coffee at the co-op like usual. His wife Eileen said he had had a couple bad days and they thought maybe it was the shrimp burger he ate. Pauline rolled her eyes and shook her head when she related that saying that they then had taken Erwin to the hospital where the doctor told him he had had another heart attack apparently. A day later he had another and was gone. I think this was the third death in town in a week. It's put everyone on edge somewhat as we all think about our mortality. And me being up on the roof am now thinking about it as well! Could it happen? Sure. I could trip on the power cord or a tool. How would the story be told? Well he was on the roof doing something. So and so had just talked to him and the next thing he was dead. Tripped and fell!
Having been sufficiently distracted I finished my work on the front dormer deciding to leave the back for another day when the vultures weren't circling overhead. But I had to laugh that even on the roof I couldn't escape the news at hand in my little town thanks to the well meaning friends and neighbors around me. So I indeed lived another day to write one more story about life "Along the way".
With birds in the air before the pups were even on the ground they were more than excited. The temperature was finally reasonable after two days of intense heat making this our morning to stretch our legs once again. The Setter's were off to the east heading to a fence line 200 yards ahead when I heard the chuckling of birds taking flight. Tails were wagging and noses to the ground as they found the sight of the covey that had busted around a little rise just the other side of the fence.
The rancher had been rotating his cattle from pasture to hay field sectioning it off and allowing them to graze the alfalfa growth that had occurred since the June cutting. This was no good news for us as it further eliminated any cover for the birds. But we covered the ground to the west coming back through some heavier cover hoping to pin down some birds. As we approached from the west I came over a knoll to find the Setters on point but got no closer than 75 yards and the birds busted. With the cover so sparse the sight advantage was all in their favor this morning.
Moving through the heavier alfalfa sure enough Molly picked up scent first and pointed a double backed by Mick. Beau was casting up ahead along the edge. Molly worked ahead to the west pointing again. This time a group of three Sharptail with Mick again at her back. Beau was birdy but I suspect his birds had moved into the adjacent corn field. It was a nice end to the run as we were just 100 yards from the Jeep and took our time walking back. Such a great thing to be able to get these dog's on wild birds so frequently.
The rest of the morning I spent working on some maintenance around the house repairing some old single hung windows and painting the trim. I was up on the porch roof working on the front dormer windows when someone called my name from below. It was Mary from 2 blocks north. A retired lady in her late seventies who has made it her mission to keep track of what I'm doing it seems. Mary means well and living alone without family walks around town with the aid of a walker visiting as she goes putting more miles on that walker than her car I suspect. Her message for me was of course that I had better be careful up there and what was I doing up that high in the first place! I said " Don't worry Mary its not my time yet!" She replied " Well that's what Judy thought too but she died just last week and she was only 58!" Mary went on to tell me about her kids living down in the New Orleans area and about the storm. I'm trying to be a good sport and listen as I'm on the roof but thinking you know if you keep distracting me I probably will fall off the roof!
Mary cautioned me again before she was on her way saying if I fell onto the steps that'd be really bad! So back to work I go for about 10 minutes when I hear my name again. This time it's my neighbor to the east wondering what I'm doing up there as she heard hammering. I explain what I had just told Mary. Pauline then tells me our neighbor Erwin 1 block east had died this morning of a heart attack. Erwin age 93 had had an attack 2 weeks ago and after coming home from the hospital was driving around town at parade speed and drinking free coffee at the co-op like usual. His wife Eileen said he had had a couple bad days and they thought maybe it was the shrimp burger he ate. Pauline rolled her eyes and shook her head when she related that saying that they then had taken Erwin to the hospital where the doctor told him he had had another heart attack apparently. A day later he had another and was gone. I think this was the third death in town in a week. It's put everyone on edge somewhat as we all think about our mortality. And me being up on the roof am now thinking about it as well! Could it happen? Sure. I could trip on the power cord or a tool. How would the story be told? Well he was on the roof doing something. So and so had just talked to him and the next thing he was dead. Tripped and fell!
Having been sufficiently distracted I finished my work on the front dormer deciding to leave the back for another day when the vultures weren't circling overhead. But I had to laugh that even on the roof I couldn't escape the news at hand in my little town thanks to the well meaning friends and neighbors around me. So I indeed lived another day to write one more story about life "Along the way".
Thursday, August 23, 2012
Old Age Bumps and Lumps
I've been watching the Setter's as we make our preseason runs evaluating their condition and stamina. I had noticed Mick slow up a bit last year but hunt just as effectively. It was so much fun to watch him use his wisdom and experience showing Molly and Beau how it's done time and again. Beau as I had mentioned had a couple days where his leg had swollen up when we were in Wisconsin in June but it returned to normal on it's own. I decided it must have been a spider bite possibly. Molly had me a little concerned the last few weeks as she seemed to be a little more stressed by the exercise taking more time to catch her breath.
So I decided to make an appointment with the Vet to have Molly checked out and Mick as well who had developed a 1 1/2 inch circular bump on the underside of his ear. The Vet service I've been using is a half hour away and staffed by 4 very capable Vets specializing in primarily large animals with this being farm and ranch country. You can't request a specific Vet which I don't like but these guys work closely together and are usually in the office during small animal hours so it works.
I explained to the Vet Molly had been exhibiting decreased stamina and trouble recovering from strenuous exercise compared to the other pups. At age 9 and carrying about 12 extra pounds in warm weather we agreed that there were at least some obvious circumstances anyway. But after listening to her heart and breathing and detecting nothing unusual the Vet wanted to take an x ray to view her heart and lung areas to rule out any abnormalities. These guys keep it simple and don't have a lot of staff around so that meant I had to control the button to take the x ray while the assistant and the doctor held Molly in place. Mission accomplished in just a few seconds. Molly was on her feet and I led her outside to the air conditioned van while we waited for the film to develop.
This was Micks time to come in to get his ear checked. Dr Elliot took just a few seconds to confirm Mick had a condition caused by a broken blood vessel that makes fluid and blood accumulate under the skin. This is caused by some trauma usually created as dog's shake their ears or hit them against something. The fix was to insert a draining needle and relieve the pocket of fluid. It would get better when the broken veins heal he said. Mick has other bumps and lumps we've looked at before but at age 10 is happy and hunts at his own pace always glad to be on the team.
After reading Molly's x ray and seeing everything appearing normal Dr Elliot had one other doctor listen to her heart before proclaiming her in good health relative to her age and slightly heavier than normal weight. Dr Joe just came out to the van and put his stethoscope on her proclaiming her OK as well. When I thought about it with as hot as the summer has been it really was challenging to keep them active and exercised especially when we had about 6 weeks straight of near 100 degree weather.. During the spring hatching season we walk on leash only until the birds are big enough to fly well then I start running them again which this year was mid July. But again with the heat it's hard to follow a strict schedule.
I was glad to know at another year older the process of aging was the extent of my worries on this trip. As long as I had Beau along I brought him in to show the Vet who did his leg surgery for removing a cancerous tumor that his leg was fine and free of any more indication of trouble. Just to be safe he examined Beau and said he seemed OK so we said our good byes and headed for home.
The season opener is now just 3 weeks away. I've quit scouting as the habitat is all in poor condition. Dry,mowed and plowed under. It's difficult to see it this way but we'll find enjoyment in just being together again for one more season. That's why we're here. This is our life. These moments I share with 3 of the best friends I've ever had are the best of times." Old age bumps and lumps" are just part of the journey.
So I decided to make an appointment with the Vet to have Molly checked out and Mick as well who had developed a 1 1/2 inch circular bump on the underside of his ear. The Vet service I've been using is a half hour away and staffed by 4 very capable Vets specializing in primarily large animals with this being farm and ranch country. You can't request a specific Vet which I don't like but these guys work closely together and are usually in the office during small animal hours so it works.
I explained to the Vet Molly had been exhibiting decreased stamina and trouble recovering from strenuous exercise compared to the other pups. At age 9 and carrying about 12 extra pounds in warm weather we agreed that there were at least some obvious circumstances anyway. But after listening to her heart and breathing and detecting nothing unusual the Vet wanted to take an x ray to view her heart and lung areas to rule out any abnormalities. These guys keep it simple and don't have a lot of staff around so that meant I had to control the button to take the x ray while the assistant and the doctor held Molly in place. Mission accomplished in just a few seconds. Molly was on her feet and I led her outside to the air conditioned van while we waited for the film to develop.
This was Micks time to come in to get his ear checked. Dr Elliot took just a few seconds to confirm Mick had a condition caused by a broken blood vessel that makes fluid and blood accumulate under the skin. This is caused by some trauma usually created as dog's shake their ears or hit them against something. The fix was to insert a draining needle and relieve the pocket of fluid. It would get better when the broken veins heal he said. Mick has other bumps and lumps we've looked at before but at age 10 is happy and hunts at his own pace always glad to be on the team.
After reading Molly's x ray and seeing everything appearing normal Dr Elliot had one other doctor listen to her heart before proclaiming her in good health relative to her age and slightly heavier than normal weight. Dr Joe just came out to the van and put his stethoscope on her proclaiming her OK as well. When I thought about it with as hot as the summer has been it really was challenging to keep them active and exercised especially when we had about 6 weeks straight of near 100 degree weather.. During the spring hatching season we walk on leash only until the birds are big enough to fly well then I start running them again which this year was mid July. But again with the heat it's hard to follow a strict schedule.
I was glad to know at another year older the process of aging was the extent of my worries on this trip. As long as I had Beau along I brought him in to show the Vet who did his leg surgery for removing a cancerous tumor that his leg was fine and free of any more indication of trouble. Just to be safe he examined Beau and said he seemed OK so we said our good byes and headed for home.
The season opener is now just 3 weeks away. I've quit scouting as the habitat is all in poor condition. Dry,mowed and plowed under. It's difficult to see it this way but we'll find enjoyment in just being together again for one more season. That's why we're here. This is our life. These moments I share with 3 of the best friends I've ever had are the best of times." Old age bumps and lumps" are just part of the journey.
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
The Changing Landscape
We took advantage of the cool morning temperatures today and headed out for our run heading north to check an area we often hunted in the late season. It's 320 acres of rolling hills which had been in CRP ever since I'd been around the last several year's. We hunted it late because it was lighter grass for the most part. It held more birds after the crops were down of course but even then it was a challenge to get them pinned down but loads of fun regardless. I had never seen anyone else hunt it as again the gang hunters would avoid the large expanses of grass preferring to ambush the birds in the sloughs so they wouldn't need to walk very far.
As we traveled down the gravel road we passed a bunch of cattle that had escaped their fence and further on ahead saw cattle now moved into a pasture we love to hunt for Sharptail. This Rancher doesn't over graze so there's usually sufficient cover left to hold birds. This year being drier though I'm not sure what it'll be like once he moves them out for the season. A mile further north we passed that Rancher heading down to the adjacent hay field to load round bales. That's the alfalfa we were in the other evening where we found multiple coveys of Sharptail. I'm crossing my fingers hoping he doesn't cut it again. We'll see!
We rounded the corner at the top of the hill and headed on east a quarter mile to our spot. As it came into view I was shocked but not surprised by the sight. What had been a great spot for years was now a barren field filled with round bales ultimately waiting to go under the plow and back into production. The loss of CRP is so evident everywhere we go. I pulled up and let the Setter's out and started to reminisce about all the birds we took here and those that got away. So much fun. So many good times. Gone now forever. We hunted harder last year than we ever had before and I thought to myself how glad I now was that we had put on so many miles together. It was so much fun day after day. We'll just hunt more pastures for Sharptail I said to myself. But no matter what this season will be different. The Setter's were glad to be on the ground but I could tell they knew this was not bird cover as they casually cast about in the dry grass stubble. It had always held deer as well and some Sharptail around the rock piles now without even 6 feet of grass around them.
Just the other day I had read a piece on the world population estimates for the future and what the demands for meat production will be and what it means. It was startling to think of where this production will come from. It will mean I believe that there will never be an incentive for farmers to take land out of production in the future as there has been in the past benefiting bird hunters like myself. So you can bet every available acre no matter how marginal will be actively utilized whether grazed or farmed in the future. Our miles walked per bird may increase this year but we've got some miles left on us. We'll hunt as hard as we're able in our tenth season together thinking about seasons past as we go by those places we no longer hunt remembering the times we had. Meanwhile world demand for food,global warming,ethanol production and a host of other unstoppable factors will continue to drive the transition of "The Changing Landscape".
As we traveled down the gravel road we passed a bunch of cattle that had escaped their fence and further on ahead saw cattle now moved into a pasture we love to hunt for Sharptail. This Rancher doesn't over graze so there's usually sufficient cover left to hold birds. This year being drier though I'm not sure what it'll be like once he moves them out for the season. A mile further north we passed that Rancher heading down to the adjacent hay field to load round bales. That's the alfalfa we were in the other evening where we found multiple coveys of Sharptail. I'm crossing my fingers hoping he doesn't cut it again. We'll see!
We rounded the corner at the top of the hill and headed on east a quarter mile to our spot. As it came into view I was shocked but not surprised by the sight. What had been a great spot for years was now a barren field filled with round bales ultimately waiting to go under the plow and back into production. The loss of CRP is so evident everywhere we go. I pulled up and let the Setter's out and started to reminisce about all the birds we took here and those that got away. So much fun. So many good times. Gone now forever. We hunted harder last year than we ever had before and I thought to myself how glad I now was that we had put on so many miles together. It was so much fun day after day. We'll just hunt more pastures for Sharptail I said to myself. But no matter what this season will be different. The Setter's were glad to be on the ground but I could tell they knew this was not bird cover as they casually cast about in the dry grass stubble. It had always held deer as well and some Sharptail around the rock piles now without even 6 feet of grass around them.
Just the other day I had read a piece on the world population estimates for the future and what the demands for meat production will be and what it means. It was startling to think of where this production will come from. It will mean I believe that there will never be an incentive for farmers to take land out of production in the future as there has been in the past benefiting bird hunters like myself. So you can bet every available acre no matter how marginal will be actively utilized whether grazed or farmed in the future. Our miles walked per bird may increase this year but we've got some miles left on us. We'll hunt as hard as we're able in our tenth season together thinking about seasons past as we go by those places we no longer hunt remembering the times we had. Meanwhile world demand for food,global warming,ethanol production and a host of other unstoppable factors will continue to drive the transition of "The Changing Landscape".
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