tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-43890914711442783012024-03-06T12:00:59.620-08:00A Bird Hunter's RoadIn search of wild birds across the Midwest and WestHansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09669633979678360024noreply@blogger.comBlogger49125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4389091471144278301.post-15419495768056501542022-04-02T07:48:00.000-07:002022-04-02T07:48:12.645-07:00The Wild World of Wild Birds<p> <span style="color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">If you are old enough to remember ABC’s </span><i style="color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">Wide World of Sports</i><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">, you distinctly recall Jim McKay uttering the words “the thrill of victory and agony of defeat”. While a tough day in the field doesn't rival an epic crash on the Giant Slalom, it does occasionally make us question our choice of hobbies or sanity. When entered into my hunting journals, this season had no shortage of peaks and valleys when compared to previous years.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;"> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">Singing The Blues</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">The opening day of the season on September 1st, found us in blue grouse country. Dad was only three months into his warranty period on his new knee, so we planned to take things easy. Five miles and 2,000’ feet of elevation later, I reminded him not to overdo it on the first day. Too late. He wasn’t able to walk the next day, let alone hunt. It was a strange day as we moved about a dozen blues, but many of them blew out of trees, not offering much dog work. We each shot a bird, so we were not skunked. I returned to the woods and Dad’s RV two days later and had a great hunt in the hills. I found plenty of birds and had fairly open shooting over points. If you haven’t hunted blues, it is great sport, in majestic country for a bird that is wonderful on the table.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;"> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyvg0khgo5t4TV5_8EaCPxwp1o-f0g2djInY56dGvE4xpLFc6WmCQsb5swD8Bfu1fGHXPoISm8mzewHH-Pp4MGSbfXxY6_OrjyAEd1LA3kLYeaxy8NwNvp6VwcsEo1T3NO3x785FyE_CQNakTSWbrfPe2k8FBDL3VCxJ8WtZmRlgKnfc8YwKdd0A/s1280/IMG_1932.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1103" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyvg0khgo5t4TV5_8EaCPxwp1o-f0g2djInY56dGvE4xpLFc6WmCQsb5swD8Bfu1fGHXPoISm8mzewHH-Pp4MGSbfXxY6_OrjyAEd1LA3kLYeaxy8NwNvp6VwcsEo1T3NO3x785FyE_CQNakTSWbrfPe2k8FBDL3VCxJ8WtZmRlgKnfc8YwKdd0A/s320/IMG_1932.jpg" width="276" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">No snakes and usually 10 degrees cooler than the prairie</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">Hunting For Cover, Not Birds</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">As I moved north on the Montana prairie, it was good to see that the birds bounced back nicely since the dreadful summer of 2017. The drought that season virtually wiped out all reproduction for Hungarian Partridge and sharptail. (Pheasants fared slightly better) This fall, sharptail were abundant and seeing three or four coveys of Huns a day was the norm. Shooting a limit of Huns isn’t always the goal, but when it occurred over the 6-month old pup, I made no apologies. The light really came on, as they say. Unfortunately, the continued drought reduced the habitat for the birds on the landscape. The lack of grass resulted in more haying and more grazing. A definite double-whammy which may carry over into spring 2022 nesting.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcR-O04ALIaQLKD1L2oSaPArUwGxeYtxQtluQgpFXtutRy-X9iaWhocqDQLBdDbRTUeBsLIjGIUzaI8H_9sz-be-Yjem9phMygJEOymlA_kZyz8DEPYrZ3jJs6JoxfeIEwyKaG7MdNbpjaNZBUdiN_aqEocJgpvrrWkYLSTNyE4HwAeQ-hhb-psQ/s2016/IMG_2095.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcR-O04ALIaQLKD1L2oSaPArUwGxeYtxQtluQgpFXtutRy-X9iaWhocqDQLBdDbRTUeBsLIjGIUzaI8H_9sz-be-Yjem9phMygJEOymlA_kZyz8DEPYrZ3jJs6JoxfeIEwyKaG7MdNbpjaNZBUdiN_aqEocJgpvrrWkYLSTNyE4HwAeQ-hhb-psQ/s320/IMG_2095.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;"> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">Its Ruff Without Woodcock</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">The trip to the grouse and woodcock cabin in MN also produce mixed results. The woodcock had already come and gone, but the hunting for ruffs was decent. I hunted some untouched ground via my fat-tire bike where I only saw the tracks of wolves and some old whitewash from timberdoodles. The final day I shot a true double on ruffs, which I don’t recall happening in 40 years of hunting in the north woods. I won’t bore you with the details, but that mental image will stick with me for a while.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;"> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">Everyone Wants a Rooster</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">Montana pheasant opener: Plenty of birds, good dog work, but too many people. I have hunted the same spots in NE MT for years, but this was the first opener in which vehicles and RVs were strategically parked to reserve spots. People were trespassing with reckless abandon. To the guys from Idaho said they new it was private land and didn't care, we need the opposite of an R3 program for folks like you. I keep saying I am going to avoid pheasant opener, but 30 years later…. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">Burned In Hells</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">Idaho chukars. The first day was a disappointing bust as our destination was a black moonscape from the wildfires this summer. We saw a few birds, but their remaining cover were rock piles. On day two, I fell on frost-covered rocks and put an ugly ding in my 28 gauge. Good thing I packed an extra 20 gauge and shells. Finally, on the third day, our luck changed and we found a supercovey of birds in some rugged country, miles from the nearest road. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO5p1maqLvG7m_tKJRCsk2y7kCBDQBy9DdM8lubAHZxJWlgatV-vqv0G2IQ7tj-26kXENCJMZ_WLtaZoGXTBEleFaW7XRNp0rSPflFSurYYr_tr5HzQBCpG8Q4qYQopXAykHIMToomFsgvyTXYa5T3c_DmgGo9ZorSy6cteVW71gCYVKZoaNjm8g/s2016/IMG_2624.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO5p1maqLvG7m_tKJRCsk2y7kCBDQBy9DdM8lubAHZxJWlgatV-vqv0G2IQ7tj-26kXENCJMZ_WLtaZoGXTBEleFaW7XRNp0rSPflFSurYYr_tr5HzQBCpG8Q4qYQopXAykHIMToomFsgvyTXYa5T3c_DmgGo9ZorSy6cteVW71gCYVKZoaNjm8g/s320/IMG_2624.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">I think about chukar country 12 months a year.</span> </td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">Trapped</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">Kansas quail. In southern Kansas, we had a great start on bobs, on a bitterly cold, snowy day. I was able to hunt both dogs, who worked as a team. I moved five coveys and shot a limit and I am glad I did. The next morning, when we had bluebird weather and high expectations, I never saw a covey. To make matters worse, Lena the pup, found a trapper’s leg-hold unit and howled until I ran over and set her free. An event like that really puts a damper on your enthusiasm. After seeing a snare in the same area, I was more than content to call it a trip and make the 15-hour drive back to Montana.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuJTYgRerhEl70D6n3WzozSg9ZCdUPI1RxTBGQVsKUJ7AUskKE4T4m1BY8_OGVYkCuaZ_74NDSkRTTxSqcQA2t6vwioTpz0WBcG_Uu2N69ldkKwQSslQ3PyU6vHuBb9NZujzoCSqSriadVmaKCGqBaERIRXWKTJZ3tJzXlhCwXEVM66_3oPXk0Gg/s640/IMG_3024.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuJTYgRerhEl70D6n3WzozSg9ZCdUPI1RxTBGQVsKUJ7AUskKE4T4m1BY8_OGVYkCuaZ_74NDSkRTTxSqcQA2t6vwioTpz0WBcG_Uu2N69ldkKwQSslQ3PyU6vHuBb9NZujzoCSqSriadVmaKCGqBaERIRXWKTJZ3tJzXlhCwXEVM66_3oPXk0Gg/s320/IMG_3024.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Legal on public lands, but not a lot of fun for bird dogs.</span> </td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">Late-Season</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">We had just the right enough snow for a Montana Hi-Line pheasant and Hun hunt so I took a break from chukars and went north. Overnight temps were around zero, so I rented a dog-friendly motel instead of hauling the RV. While I was mostly after Huns with a side of pheasants, I could not get close to the Huns. They flushed wild repeatedly from the hard-packed snow and eventually I gave up. The Huns were acting more like pheasants. I moved to slightly heavier cover and focused on ringnecks. The tight-sitting roosters and hens were great practice for a young dog. The hunting was good, the driving on icy roads was not. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">Cowpoke Partridge</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">Wyoming chukars and Hungarians. When a rancher tells you he has never seen a bird hunter before, you chalk it up as a plus. Due to a dry spring and summer, amidst an already arid climate, the bird numbers were down from previous years. But, the weather in South Montana was balmy until the very end of the season, while snow was piling up in my Idaho haunts. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">My final bird was a Hun, over a point by both dogs at sunset on January 30<sup>th</sup>, along the snowcapped Rocky Mountain Front. I ended that day and my season with one chukar and one Hun which doesn’t sound like much of a day. But, when you look at the big picture of finding wild birds in wild country with your own bird dogs, there are always more good days than bad. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCXw2rL7EpUFNJ-Y3TegykOFue0sKyMpUpgJnfM8viPUUWARQ0ZDxkBnlHMxc70n4XM1WfwVnaKw8mLhlHpUFbQjDgPOVZSm0YpzMrdkIQMRIJJFZQzLxppl7-RKpYmWrhuqkvc8NHNs6lY9rW44Op4ycCfoUWRvjQ-wg7cojUEPcKmkb2MXsE1g/s640/IMG_3228.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCXw2rL7EpUFNJ-Y3TegykOFue0sKyMpUpgJnfM8viPUUWARQ0ZDxkBnlHMxc70n4XM1WfwVnaKw8mLhlHpUFbQjDgPOVZSm0YpzMrdkIQMRIJJFZQzLxppl7-RKpYmWrhuqkvc8NHNs6lY9rW44Op4ycCfoUWRvjQ-wg7cojUEPcKmkb2MXsE1g/s320/IMG_3228.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Final bird of the season. Now we wait.</span> </td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;"><br /></p>Hansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09669633979678360024noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4389091471144278301.post-37643323161320030622021-11-16T20:10:00.000-08:002021-11-16T20:10:33.459-08:00Swiss Army Dogs<p> The past decade or so, I have left the pheasant belt of eastern Montana immediately after the opening weekend each year. The hunt is mostly a tradition amongst friends with good dog work on young birds, often ending our hunts by mid-morning each day. After the two or three days of hunting wild roosters in CRP and brushy draws, I repack my gear and head to Minnesota for ruffed grouse and woodcock. The mid-October window is a good balance that is late enough in the season to offer some leaves on the ground, but not far enough into fall to miss all of the resident woodcock.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7GMJmrVcG5p5MJcVkc3orEFqp1_MzzK2Eq3Bm1SNZXQ9AGPNWX_p7ANPU2Z2n36f_ah8A-tDyretq5gN-MOFEhyphenhyphenSe0dXZdUDEIUuoNYyI6kd8BPDavC4x3nYQQlrEKZBivNpPxXf8nw/s1771/IMG_8309.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1510" data-original-width="1771" height="273" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7GMJmrVcG5p5MJcVkc3orEFqp1_MzzK2Eq3Bm1SNZXQ9AGPNWX_p7ANPU2Z2n36f_ah8A-tDyretq5gN-MOFEhyphenhyphenSe0dXZdUDEIUuoNYyI6kd8BPDavC4x3nYQQlrEKZBivNpPxXf8nw/s320/IMG_8309.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Maggie and Katy. All they knew were grouse and woodcock and it showed.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br /></p><p>Growing up in the north woods, our dogs were specialists. It wasn’t an attempt at elitism, but strictly a pragmatic decision. We never considered traveling, leaving birds to find birds. Blaze, Maggie, Katy, and Lucy hunted ruffs and timberdoodles exclusively, with maybe one or two outings for sharptail that were just outside of the big woods. When you combine that narrow focus with great hunting in your backyard, a young setter learned the game very quickly. Woodcock were a great training tool, the wary grouse a slightly more advanced course. I took our good hunting and stellar dog work for granted.</p><p>Now, with just a handful of days in the MN woods each year, I won’t pretend that my current pair of bird dogs have that duo mastered. Sure, they do well-enough, but I can notice they handle ruffs better on day three or four, then on day one. I am not sure they even remember the smell of woodcock until they bump one and grouse, well, they might get a bit too close for comfort when the tailgate first drops. Switching from running roosters to wobbly woodcock in 24 hours, is a significant change. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiIiC9xjZ4mCM3mgb-KER5Z5sWgOeojt9YdlPzRd6I4irdXR5xc9uLfZ32nsFBFShX_kz2ekkfhgfX-L6_VWfgxQte4S-2n1WngXhsxY-ci2weQAzqTXnQx56V3nUEdh4tSK05wX0nLw/s640/IMG_2089.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiIiC9xjZ4mCM3mgb-KER5Z5sWgOeojt9YdlPzRd6I4irdXR5xc9uLfZ32nsFBFShX_kz2ekkfhgfX-L6_VWfgxQte4S-2n1WngXhsxY-ci2weQAzqTXnQx56V3nUEdh4tSK05wX0nLw/s320/IMG_2089.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Huns. Great dog work + sporty shooting. </td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br /></p><p>A feathered stew of chukars, blue grouse, sharptail and Huns, an occasional sage grouse and a few valley quail each year, only adds to the diversity that my dogs see. September sharptail usually play fair, but the weather can be hot and dry. Are mountain blue grouse an adequate fill-in for ruffs? Do Hun coveys act and smell like a bunch of chukars? Does the variety of birds make them mediocre at each species or are bird contacts all part of the bigger picture? I am not sure what the answer is, but I know in my six-month sojourn chasing birds each year, it is sure fun to see a variety of country, with a lot of unique birds alongside my “good-enough” dogs. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjabQinf1EhileP2INNbMf4oNf2cHu9LF5_dBe0vKh-1_Mxk2ZBHBfmKFpdUAodUu-UYQl_R_sMN4XKfcCyHl1tkadaJ9YGtBf6c0d4yW1Qp1DFi0htzGRT89_5LOkafwMnexWOqPeJBA/s1399/IMG_2415.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1399" data-original-width="1184" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjabQinf1EhileP2INNbMf4oNf2cHu9LF5_dBe0vKh-1_Mxk2ZBHBfmKFpdUAodUu-UYQl_R_sMN4XKfcCyHl1tkadaJ9YGtBf6c0d4yW1Qp1DFi0htzGRT89_5LOkafwMnexWOqPeJBA/s320/IMG_2415.jpg" width="271" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chukar country. Birds that run like pheasants, flush like Huns. </td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div><br /></div>Hansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09669633979678360024noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4389091471144278301.post-60719308858871016462021-02-14T12:12:00.000-08:002021-02-14T12:12:22.973-08:00The Season That Wouldn't End<p>Growing up in the icebox of northern Minnesota, I didn’t
fathom hunting upland birds after Thanksgiving, let alone January 1<sup>st</sup>
or into February. We got our licks in though, hunting steadily from September 1<sup>st</sup>
(woodcock only) until deer season in early November shut down the setters and
hunters. There were a few years where
the snow didn’t accumulate to levels that impeded our search for December ruffs,
but usually Thanksgiving was the tail end of our season.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBGVXlLI4LhddaUEGw87TrccbbQyYLRJZtBg6B2NSRNoCvyNXXPsN1yM2Smvi0UH4VKR7vyj-yPedE_XBIi7YVNIoRF88uMPg-j-wjsC-mP2aRRD6ORsM2FTsdZUAYnhO206CriLCe1w/s640/licences.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="527" data-original-width="640" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBGVXlLI4LhddaUEGw87TrccbbQyYLRJZtBg6B2NSRNoCvyNXXPsN1yM2Smvi0UH4VKR7vyj-yPedE_XBIi7YVNIoRF88uMPg-j-wjsC-mP2aRRD6ORsM2FTsdZUAYnhO206CriLCe1w/w272-h224/licences.jpg" width="272" /></a></div><br /><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">When I finally ended up in Montana, the climate allowed for
ample pheasant hunting until January 1<sup>st</sup>, many years without any
snow on the ground. The birds were as crafty as heck in the late season, but it
didn’t matter. Hunting pressure was nil and the dogs were in prime shape.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The four-month season offered a lot of
variety from blue grouse at 8,000’ in September to Huns and sharptail in
October. Pheasants were the primary quarry the final half of the year, which often
varied from the easy birds of the opener to tougher days of busting cattails
and deep snow. Four months of bird hunting seemed adequate.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsRyYA_WhNX1vTXW_Q9sMkNNbfEinkujcYHtUeilJwZ86ot-nZWo2Xjv036UabXymrvfDZLN2NuD6bghxWjN4RBvLi6JyhciLjDfpbdfV70Y4U4lzc-pVZoFRysP35cTejKFHXhQDLZA/s640/phezopener.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsRyYA_WhNX1vTXW_Q9sMkNNbfEinkujcYHtUeilJwZ86ot-nZWo2Xjv036UabXymrvfDZLN2NuD6bghxWjN4RBvLi6JyhciLjDfpbdfV70Y4U4lzc-pVZoFRysP35cTejKFHXhQDLZA/s320/phezopener.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">When chukars, and to a lesser extent quail, entered the
picture, instantly an additional month of hunting and road trips were attained.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Idaho chukar and valley quail and Wyoming
chukars and Huns, had become my addictions. While I have traveled to Kansas and
Arizona as well, they weren’t getaways that could be done on a long
weekend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could be in Wyoming chukar
country in four hours, so why wouldn’t I sneak to the Cowboy State as often as
I could?<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">And, sneak I did this season (often alone and wearing a mask).
For all of us in the North who value a good ice-auger more than golf clubs,
winter weather can shut down the hunting season or make the travel back and
forth miserable. We tell our spouses, “one more hunting trip is needed before
the snow flies”, a line I used repeatedly this fall. Four trips in a five-week
span were made to Wyoming, with varying results each sojourn south.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My goal was to find birds in a new location
each trip, so I did cross off some areas about as often as I successfully scribbled
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Chuk</i> on my maps.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi00PI9UDXyXhkb2G5GW2MzfbNs8jHlU0iQZ-VIjXOuxzO0MJnxNT484a_zmnSG5OlqNprdF5D1ygESqpbXPu3wGSPGGIC9H61SXcoCdXOD3eLCYIHn47Dk1VUk5P3yzq9Po6JpBQCMbg/s640/WYlimit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="509" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi00PI9UDXyXhkb2G5GW2MzfbNs8jHlU0iQZ-VIjXOuxzO0MJnxNT484a_zmnSG5OlqNprdF5D1ygESqpbXPu3wGSPGGIC9H61SXcoCdXOD3eLCYIHn47Dk1VUk5P3yzq9Po6JpBQCMbg/s320/WYlimit.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I also made two trips to Idaho, both of which were enjoyable
as I took two different hunting partners to see the majestic Hells Canyon.
Hunting in that scenic terrain, with all public-land, is hard to top.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No fences, no permission needed, the only
requirements consisted of being in good physical shape and remembering which
ridge the truck was parked.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvE8OnfXamR8H-DheTYx9Ok7CyRxRG2URZvI45REvwlkigtbQdzl3-FuoYU4Pbz6SQtxrfsi4TJQ5UTsHMhs2na-a1R1rKVte4WaWWB8KF_g2eHpiVBSjd8UHcUYN-xuL2Itg5S4krGw/s1280/HellsPoint.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="924" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvE8OnfXamR8H-DheTYx9Ok7CyRxRG2URZvI45REvwlkigtbQdzl3-FuoYU4Pbz6SQtxrfsi4TJQ5UTsHMhs2na-a1R1rKVte4WaWWB8KF_g2eHpiVBSjd8UHcUYN-xuL2Itg5S4krGw/s320/HellsPoint.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">When January 31<sup>st</sup> came and went, I had partially
cleaned up my bird hunting <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Ready Piles</i>
in my den - collections of things I used so often that I really never unpacked
from each getaway. Dog collars, my 28 gauge shell bag, dog food and boots I
rotated based on the upcoming terrain, were always at the ready.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, when I realized Nevada’s chukar season
remained opened until February 7<sup>th</sup>, I quickly restocked. While a
winter storm was going to impact the home front in central Montana, northern
Nevada was downright balmy, with temps in the 50s. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I would worry about returning home later. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">It was my first trip to Nevada, outside of many work trips
to Las Vegas, which really do not count.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Like many expeditions to a new area, one wastes a lot of time scouting
and finding the birdy ground.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Letti did
her part and found plenty of Huns the first day and finally struck gold with
chukars on the second.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was an enjoyable,
albeit short trip, but I hunted into February for the first time in my life, so
what’s not to like?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The season ended
abruptly, as I drove the final 300 miles on ice, all the way to my doorstep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, I had to make the final trip, before the
snow came.<o:p></o:p></p>Hansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09669633979678360024noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4389091471144278301.post-13386477749269465072020-10-24T08:00:00.000-07:002020-10-24T08:00:05.851-07:002020 Hits and Misses <p> <u>September 1- October 10</u></p><p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSATBqs0neHNGkg86u3A9GJeAWfrV9lVUORXQ0-nOrslvMpXH6NCdNMebFepPa6KFsRm9_TkpyrELMNxxCGj013blsBrCVF4CctzEZ6x0PZR1kaF0AwvblqWLXYse9MFjI0JsuHwb_yw/s640/MaskUp.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSATBqs0neHNGkg86u3A9GJeAWfrV9lVUORXQ0-nOrslvMpXH6NCdNMebFepPa6KFsRm9_TkpyrELMNxxCGj013blsBrCVF4CctzEZ6x0PZR1kaF0AwvblqWLXYse9MFjI0JsuHwb_yw/s320/MaskUp.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">How will we remember the 2020-2021 hunting season?</td></tr></tbody></table><br />One expects the first two weeks of the Montana season to be hot and dry. Often smoky. But, this fall, conditions of Hades lingered all the way to pheasant opener. The days trekking up high for blues were productive, but by noon, water bottles were empty and the dogs were looking for shade. Salt was rubbed in the wound even more when an October fire struck said blue grouse coverts. Time will tell if that high-elevation habitat is altered forever.</p><p>Based on my days afield, sharptail seemed to be nearly recovered from the drought of 2017, while Huns aren't quite there yet. On second thought, sharptail were more abundant than any season since 2007. (I would still like to see a 3 birds/day limit and 9 in possession) I never did hunt sage grouse this September, with most of my excuses revolving around snakes, warm temperatures and more snakes.</p><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh96PFxWtz0WPjSt4WgtVzskb4TL5TCNfZ-2XuVMAVSf4LUH4tMnpEw4bnAslZ70xQ-X5OS_pxVSRzKsRwA9JnK9McZdKpAanzQGO1qeypkdfmXreM9Vunh9djV3B5T7OYckpqqvJI92A/s640/blackdogwhitedog.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh96PFxWtz0WPjSt4WgtVzskb4TL5TCNfZ-2XuVMAVSf4LUH4tMnpEw4bnAslZ70xQ-X5OS_pxVSRzKsRwA9JnK9McZdKpAanzQGO1qeypkdfmXreM9Vunh9djV3B5T7OYckpqqvJI92A/s320/blackdogwhitedog.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The smoky, dry September conditions hindered dog work to some extent.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br /></p><p><u>October 10 - October 23</u></p><p>Pheasant opener was played according to Hoyle. The birds had a good hatch and we had our bag limits early each day. Dog work was good, allowing us to pick out mature birds and avoid any heckling over juveniles that were lacking color. Only the pheasant opener can become amateur hour when other hunters drive past your vehicle and deliberately cut you off on a coulee. Cooler heads prevailed when the final showdown occurred, but man.......</p><p>Other than that, the opening weekend was full of good laughs, good food and good weather. The dogs were machines, doing what they were bred to do. And, Brian ended his shooting slump too, which had been on the books for a decade. Give or take. </p><p><i>Can you come home Sunday after hunting pheasants? I have had contact with some Covid-positive people.....</i>And just like that my trip to the grouse shack in MN was cancelled with one simple text from my wife. Dad claims the birds were already on the downhill slide, but I think he was just trying to talk me off the ledge. Next year. </p><p>Now, as of October 23rd, we have a foot of snow on the ground in the middle of Montana, two feet in the mountains. It could be a year to hunt more chukars in Idaho and Nevada or look for elk in the hills. Time to put away the flatlander boots and dig out the stiff-soled ones. 2020 isn't going away easy, so why should I?</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZRxw_ra6gwIO98sUsIJPbFXAPKwMcL2Pbi3HnAFQ7eBodtlJW0TzP2BwFY4OY_TQxhzX-ZBIiGEiYfMeeIE1UW_FUZvGiLqdat-Vl4rn5SZg3Rp2WIoKTJCHOXAMnGuBjrANMfgvB8g/s1280/OpenerGang.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZRxw_ra6gwIO98sUsIJPbFXAPKwMcL2Pbi3HnAFQ7eBodtlJW0TzP2BwFY4OY_TQxhzX-ZBIiGEiYfMeeIE1UW_FUZvGiLqdat-Vl4rn5SZg3Rp2WIoKTJCHOXAMnGuBjrANMfgvB8g/s320/OpenerGang.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pheasant opener is always a social event, as much as a hunting trip. Covid didn't change that.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Hansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09669633979678360024noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4389091471144278301.post-38151202519719196302020-07-09T06:59:00.001-07:002020-07-09T06:59:45.656-07:00A Season Needed More Than Ever<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
My mind is already wandering to cool mornings in camp, as we
prep to head uphill to search for blues. Admittedly, it is a bit premature, as
the birds have just hatched and we had mountain snow in the past ten days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ripe berries and hoppers of the dog days of
summer are weeks away. Regardless, there will always be a few blues in their
reliable high-elevation haunts on September 1<sup>st</sup>.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
With upland bird season just two months away, I am
formulating a more deliberate list of hunting trips for the upcoming season
than normal. I started a list on my iPhone of places I want to not forget about
in the next 4-6 months, as I think of them. In other words, ideas gleaned while
at work or during “conversation” with the wife. Some brainstorms involve new
areas I have never traveled to, some out of state, a few here in Montana.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Old coverts that I have neglected the past few
seasons for whatever reason are also on the list.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Nevada- is in the former category. Every year I attempt to
make a late season chukar trip and every year a winter storm pops up as I pack
up. I guess that shouldn’t surprise when trying to travel 12 hours, across
three mountain passes in January, but this is the year. I swear. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The vast amount of public land is intriguing,
as is the topography that appears much more hospitable than the Hells Canyon
vert.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The Charlie M. Russell Wildlife Refuge – While I live only
an hour from the western-most edge of the 1.1 million acres of public land, I
haven’t hunted it much the past four or five years. While bird densities can be
fairly low per mile on the CMR, it is truly endless walking for those that seek
sharptail and sage grouse in their native range.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t own a horse, but if I did, saddle
up. I will also probably invite along a sage grouse rookie, so they can have a
chance at checking off the big bombers from their life-list.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Wyoming Blue Grouse- Sure, leaving blues in my backyard to
search for blues in another state seems foolish.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, the satisfaction of finding birds in new
country is always enjoyable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Early
September is the window for this hunt, as snow comes early in the
high-country.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was plenty of white
stuff on the ground last September 15<sup>th </sup>when I promised the family a
“camping trip” in the Cowboy State.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1iF1gJddT8cQXDQRxcSxApzjAI62IfPEwqaCH2ULflYdCxZ6SGysg7AtUyIwRaF3YIDL-a8FkfwH9oARohaSN96tR9IGqNFPAPU3uBzpASEDbS1nEGuCy_PlHMQI-hQeB8jKYLGNY1w/s1600/BluesDad.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1065" data-original-width="1600" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1iF1gJddT8cQXDQRxcSxApzjAI62IfPEwqaCH2ULflYdCxZ6SGysg7AtUyIwRaF3YIDL-a8FkfwH9oARohaSN96tR9IGqNFPAPU3uBzpASEDbS1nEGuCy_PlHMQI-hQeB8jKYLGNY1w/s320/BluesDad.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blues are a great early-season opportunity - in any state</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Minnesota Sharptail- Same. Montana has ample sharptail.
Minnesota’s numbers are a fraction of Big Sky Country’s. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No matter, this is mostly nostalgia, to check
on some of the grouse habitat that I first hunted in as a youngster.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t think the peat bogs and birds have
gone anywhere. It will be interesting to see if the countryside appears the same
way that my memory paints it. I will already be back in the North Woods hunting
ruffs and woodcock, so this can be a side trip.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvjITc-b4UVPQRGm44R_jcHWG-kY01p-WED8OwA2VM7gRCW7S6yUzgT8wP93zcCs2AvI8C81XnUaYpfgSNMldM47WDV8yt7zNuBk__EI1nCBYJdGN82EKqNsCoFP1nAFw1FQ5sp19Ypw/s1600/sharptailMN.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1280" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvjITc-b4UVPQRGm44R_jcHWG-kY01p-WED8OwA2VM7gRCW7S6yUzgT8wP93zcCs2AvI8C81XnUaYpfgSNMldM47WDV8yt7zNuBk__EI1nCBYJdGN82EKqNsCoFP1nAFw1FQ5sp19Ypw/s320/sharptailMN.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Minnesota "chickens" circa 1985 </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The usual favorites.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have
already made one trip to Idaho scouting for chukars and saw plenty of breeding
pairs in new areas. This research combined with an off-season knee adjustment,
makes chukar hunting a priority.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wyoming
chukar hunting is also decent and offers another late-season option when
Montana is shut down. It appears Montana Huns and pheasants populations will be
on the rise, so a few prairie road trips are also in the cards. Specifically, I
noted a large, remote parcel that I discovered while hunting mule deer last
November.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Flushing sharptail, Huns and a
few pheasants while sneaking on deer may be annoying to some, but I was
laughing the entire time. September can’t get here quickly enough. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p><br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPYFF2hFX1LcrHWLNVm9VM-hpruNqR8uh7ht4YiLTw602_PIR7e9JCIU9Sak9GlTvwDNp4VH8B-OIVU6uLv7OIqY75yIYoq3jt6x5GXOsp3diy8Y1iz0tWOLkMigT5F7cnegXuWMypiw/s1600/ChukarsPoint.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1354" data-original-width="1121" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPYFF2hFX1LcrHWLNVm9VM-hpruNqR8uh7ht4YiLTw602_PIR7e9JCIU9Sak9GlTvwDNp4VH8B-OIVU6uLv7OIqY75yIYoq3jt6x5GXOsp3diy8Y1iz0tWOLkMigT5F7cnegXuWMypiw/s320/ChukarsPoint.JPG" width="264" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chukar habitat, settter on point, public land. That's all. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></div>
<br />Hansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09669633979678360024noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4389091471144278301.post-62028333215722658542020-02-27T21:40:00.002-08:002020-02-27T21:40:23.734-08:00Walking Your Way Into Birds......is the only practice I vouch for and is really the only part of the hunt we control. The adage isn't complex, but to what degree we take it, varies from hunter to hunter. It simply means the more you walk, the more birds you find. As Yogi might have said, the mantra is 90% accurate, half the time.<br />
<br />
But, the theorem was tested and failed a few times this fall, regardless how many times the boots hit the ground.<br />
<br />
When asked by first-timers and bucket-listers hunting sage grouse, my reply has been consistent: find good sage in the eastern 1/2 of Montana and Wyoming, walk in a straight line until the dogs find a flock. You will eventually encounter a group of bombers.<br />
<br />
Well, that routine let me down one day this fall near Winnett, MT, an area that is the epicenter for endless sage range. I left the truck one cool September morning,with less water than normal, assuming that the young setter Letti and I would find a reservoir holding some adequate liquid and/or we would quickly shoot our token sage hen for the fall. I was wrong on both accounts. By 2PM, we had walked 6 hours straight, ran the well dry and only saw some grouse droppings. The sage itself was healthy, very little sign of cattle traffic, but the birds were simply not in our swath. Could they have been 50 yards to either side of us? Yes. This day, eight miles was not enough and I had to get back to town for some less important task.<br />
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</div>
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Kansas was also a bit of a puzzler this year. Ryan and I were after bobwhite, something that is a novelty for us Montana types. We hadn't been down to the sunflower state for a couple of years, but based on the bounty we had discovered two years prior, we were optimistic. Just walk the known coverts until we find a covey or two. And we did. (The walking part, not the finding) We literally walked from breakfast until darkness each day. Our frustration (more for the dogs than us) did a nice job of masking the fatigue and sore feet. Two coveys and two birds the first two days. One of us, never fired a shot the entire trip. The other gent, fired four shots to kill the two bobs and one rooster. The third day, we changed our focus to prairie chickens, but it was also a dud. Walking definitely didn't reward us in southwest Kansas.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLXlroesC23Tuo2rZQag6lgxl71bljhu_Kr8WdGI0z33Ugnys09b2ifMWL-ipoufLyFsY9whoktXR5PWD1aAY3KW21OliNu2UPad5vfDDnU_GcDhxyjDTzdp2WSYcJkEM3Euy2gsEodw/s1600/kswindmill.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="498" data-original-width="459" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLXlroesC23Tuo2rZQag6lgxl71bljhu_Kr8WdGI0z33Ugnys09b2ifMWL-ipoufLyFsY9whoktXR5PWD1aAY3KW21OliNu2UPad5vfDDnU_GcDhxyjDTzdp2WSYcJkEM3Euy2gsEodw/s320/kswindmill.JPG" width="294" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kansas bird numbers were in the tank for us this fall. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />But, there were days where a long walk led me to the promised land. I left the truck a couple of days in Wyoming this fall hunting new territory, not knowing if I was 100 yards or 100 miles from wild chukars. When Letti eventually locked up, I knew I had found undiscovered chukar country and a covey that would not need to be shared with anyone, maybe ever. The danger that day was when one covey lead me to another and I didn't know when to quit. The harsh reality was I had a two-hour return hike ahead of me with about one hour of daylight. But, at least I had walked myself into a few birds.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgibyQCeknAjtQ7_y154Eh9cDIu5Nu_a8AbKy4R6Z2wwXhFQaqme_neniA85YYOTNNH18JgA9f219Bj_CgjMI3FhFuRKqwVpwAFBK7fIL-K1OwKP2UW8nAutUDSluEMOmMG6kB_aDmiaQ/s1600/Wychukar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="537" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgibyQCeknAjtQ7_y154Eh9cDIu5Nu_a8AbKy4R6Z2wwXhFQaqme_neniA85YYOTNNH18JgA9f219Bj_CgjMI3FhFuRKqwVpwAFBK7fIL-K1OwKP2UW8nAutUDSluEMOmMG6kB_aDmiaQ/s400/Wychukar.jpg" width="335" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chukar coveys in Wyoming can be miles apart. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />Hansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09669633979678360024noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4389091471144278301.post-36742286982790944842019-11-27T15:18:00.004-08:002019-11-27T15:18:42.247-08:00Lewistown to Lewiston<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVneAoOh8N6qCV_x1fCSsFu0ZEs_Q6uAHqY73WNWiA2zwbYpHhU2WVGozjmqkhjdue1WG8b8nDcT-26Md2JevZi1S5h5SthNmzf65E4WaSxdJDcAJaB9P1PtFIkUo0AWgMPzsi_qMCUg/s1600/IMG_6697.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVneAoOh8N6qCV_x1fCSsFu0ZEs_Q6uAHqY73WNWiA2zwbYpHhU2WVGozjmqkhjdue1WG8b8nDcT-26Md2JevZi1S5h5SthNmzf65E4WaSxdJDcAJaB9P1PtFIkUo0AWgMPzsi_qMCUg/s320/IMG_6697.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Getting to the point is sometimes the hardest part</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
500 miles one-way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Two mountain passes to cross. Two round trips in two weeks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One with human co-pilot, one with only dog as
co-pilot. Mix in some dreadful night-driving dodging deer and elk. Borderline
crazy. Chukar crazy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
My L-town in central Montana is regarded and regurgitated by
outdoor media as an upland bird hunting mecca. With sage grouse, sharptail,
Huns, pheasants, blue grouse and ruffs all within an hour of town, there is a
lot to like. However, the amount of access may not justify the hunting pressure
or the notoriety. To prove my point, I have only hunted two half-days locally,
spread out amongst 25+ days afield.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And
the biggest drawback to Fergus County, Montana? There aren’t any chukars.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I first shot wild chukars south of Billings, MT in marginal
habitat about 15 years and three setters ago, on my third attempt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I opened my over-under after four birds
bagged as I didn’t even know the limit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I assumed it was the same as Hungarians (eight), but wasn’t 100%
sure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No regrets as I look back, knowing
that a four-bird day is respectable anywhere.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I mounted one of those first chukars, the catalyst for my current
addiction.<o:p></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8sk-Lc0wlo4RmDWiG61wZzj5Lz8_F8r_A2kPKIsLcu5sMeYMII1ebkqjFkOLRVViUxtw3kxj8zDw-N29ySFkBEaJMM273_TdqK7STOn0vheUUUHRWte6dIHxTv04iSkFTs3jhCSc_Ig/s1600/IMG_2151.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8sk-Lc0wlo4RmDWiG61wZzj5Lz8_F8r_A2kPKIsLcu5sMeYMII1ebkqjFkOLRVViUxtw3kxj8zDw-N29ySFkBEaJMM273_TdqK7STOn0vheUUUHRWte6dIHxTv04iSkFTs3jhCSc_Ig/s320/IMG_2151.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This bird was close to dropping off the edge of the world</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Fast-forward to 2019 and the challenge and pure sport of chasing
these imported birds have not waned. So much of one’s success is determined by
1) your ambition level 2) quality of the dog work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>99.9% of the hunting occurs on public land so
the barriers to access have been removed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>For those hunters that are looking for adventure, great exercise,
tremendous scenery, majestic dog work and tricky shotgunning, chukar hunting
offers all of it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Imagine your heart-pounding as you shift down into uphill
gear, alternating your view from the ground to the dog to the ground and back
to the dog.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She looks birdy, hunting
deliberately toward a rock outcropping near the top of the ridge. You question
if you can pause a second to catch your breath, but you think better of it,
wanting to stay with the dog as she approaches the crest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She does her part, locking up on strong
scent, giving you time to try and find solid footing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just as your eyesight clears the horizon, the
covey rise explodes, giving you milliseconds to pick out a single target, two
if you are fortunate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In good chukar
country, this excitement is repeated throughout the day. Over the course of
several hours, you will have taken a number of shots that didn’t connect, a few
that do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You will have fallen a few
times, hopefully with only minor damage to both your gun and you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Your evening is spent reliving the dog’s
greatest hits, eating as many calories as you care to enjoy, hoping you can
muster the energy to climb the hills again tomorrow. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Somehow you always find that reserve tank to
return. Even when those hills are 500 miles from home.<o:p></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkQApsnNrFRwP03rl2Mkrub1x7VvHbZiidLe_uUJh8BBIwbdOGhEns6vKMRKfWXR4fXgHuEFzOaLAYeTYoDUDEW0Jo25BIzvFedxgBoUDsB6ITxCcuQLgkkohNtR3hqjnAMsLDrKPmQQ/s1600/IMG_2163.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkQApsnNrFRwP03rl2Mkrub1x7VvHbZiidLe_uUJh8BBIwbdOGhEns6vKMRKfWXR4fXgHuEFzOaLAYeTYoDUDEW0Jo25BIzvFedxgBoUDsB6ITxCcuQLgkkohNtR3hqjnAMsLDrKPmQQ/s320/IMG_2163.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Backpacking into birds. Where do you put your vest?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />Hansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09669633979678360024noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4389091471144278301.post-6199293144613310892019-10-30T20:09:00.000-07:002019-10-30T20:09:39.406-07:00Halloween Is A Little Spooky<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Growing up a stone’s throw from the border – Canada, not
Mexico, Halloween was always the sad finish line to our upland season.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The weather always seemed to turn about that
time, bringing snow and cold, sending the woodcock south if they hadn’t
departed for unfrozen dirt already.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Deer
hunting also took over then, so just like that, we switched from The World
Series and Reeboks to things like <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Hockey
Night in Canada </i>and Sorel boots. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Living in Montana and having the means to travel, Halloween
is now about midway in my bird hunting adventures. When you consider possible
winter storms and white-knuckle travel, it might be a glass half empty though. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is a trip to Kansas for quail in my
future and hopefully a number of chukar trips west, as well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I haven’t given up on Montana, either.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Late-season pheasant and Hun hunting can be
solid, right until the closing bell on January 1. However, if we receive white
stuff that can be measured in feet instead of inches, then checkmate, birds. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So far, the 2019 season has been fair to good. <o:p></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5q1M-ezIWCvmdNRsxSP-wfZMThDuUdb1vWM8H0v2HbYTSNOJIha1qgXYhZIIETZoCH_ljzsI34QN-_APiN9qkWEzLWhXGaMXxqPcTVolHcR9y0RvWErkOk1Y2DumYAKqiYuA6r42ytg/s1600/DadBlues.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5q1M-ezIWCvmdNRsxSP-wfZMThDuUdb1vWM8H0v2HbYTSNOJIha1qgXYhZIIETZoCH_ljzsI34QN-_APiN9qkWEzLWhXGaMXxqPcTVolHcR9y0RvWErkOk1Y2DumYAKqiYuA6r42ytg/s320/DadBlues.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dad at 73 still getting after blues in the high country. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
The blue grouse numbers in September were about average, but
slightly better than last season. The birds were really scattered, some dining
on berries, others on hoppers. Good for
them to have options. Unfortunately, the season was over before it started, due
to early snow (do I say that every year?). Found some beautiful, new blue grouse ridges
in Wyoming this fall. Some of which you
can drive to. Note to older self, when my knees are out of grease.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Montana pheasants had a great hatch it seems.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have found birds in the usual pockets from
central Montana to North Dakota. If only CRP came back……. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Huns are still fairly scarce throughout Montana.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe a covey a day. Sharptail are doing just
fine, they have been here since the buffalo. I wish the limit was three a day,
nine in possession. Not the current four and sixteen. I never looked for a sage
grouse this September. I do love their country. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdBM4Rh0yhRRJu5pXOncM9j5aPi4krlcFCiDqOarZq2FnPRRQGBR5WCTEHI9wJUJglYyCrV5DfL8Tgop1Sm-_FBzp6gCQzVjJ1HrcvcTJ64A4-_5oHHYA0ZnHTJhCkCwYy4MHt6I5xqA/s1600/LettiSharptail.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdBM4Rh0yhRRJu5pXOncM9j5aPi4krlcFCiDqOarZq2FnPRRQGBR5WCTEHI9wJUJglYyCrV5DfL8Tgop1Sm-_FBzp6gCQzVjJ1HrcvcTJ64A4-_5oHHYA0ZnHTJhCkCwYy4MHt6I5xqA/s320/LettiSharptail.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBittmEq6QJ9Nz6NsX-RSoN2M2IFLgQPocpCiPfTGMShG9S6D1McSpM6uh6NtBGi8xawve7Rr6nykr3g8r-EMyXW5sp6lKNCSkiHmz2OKy-UJAEHGc6het9x3ZFr1mmfGGGAHkqnWAhQ/s1600/PhezOpener.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1510" data-original-width="1510" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBittmEq6QJ9Nz6NsX-RSoN2M2IFLgQPocpCiPfTGMShG9S6D1McSpM6uh6NtBGi8xawve7Rr6nykr3g8r-EMyXW5sp6lKNCSkiHmz2OKy-UJAEHGc6het9x3ZFr1mmfGGGAHkqnWAhQ/s320/PhezOpener.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pheasant opener. Plenty of birds, despite the lack of CRP. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
A trip to the grouse shack in Minnesota was enjoyable,
despite record rainfall there this summer/fall.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The forest floor was literally one third under water. The poor woodcock
were limited in options too. Alders? Underwater.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>River banks?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Heavy flow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We did move a few in
young popple and fern/jackpine habitat, but very few.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Letti the pup, did terribly on Timberdoodles
for whatever reason. If she was only focusing on ruffs, well, she was
successful. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Grouse numbers were
surprisingly solid and almost out of whack with the 10-year cycle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh, the Runners. I think ruffs have been in
cahoots with pheasants, and are adding that skill to their bag of tricks. I watched
a bird run, Letti relocating, numerous times until it finally flushed at 75
yards. What? I have hunted ruffed grouse in Minnesota for 36 years of my 48 and
haven’t seen SOBs run like that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIlFvxO5KnsVgllS2YmdOjV02mz9lf5LSj5OzY3dMz-b50DaFb_B3BEBEXjjr_wQq4t6yXHTFCUyQ9exIagRgHB8OHiUFvgoSJCGImEtOWHkRsTk3VqdksBNQYBipGxQHSWdl-z7Mopw/s1600/MnRuffs.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIlFvxO5KnsVgllS2YmdOjV02mz9lf5LSj5OzY3dMz-b50DaFb_B3BEBEXjjr_wQq4t6yXHTFCUyQ9exIagRgHB8OHiUFvgoSJCGImEtOWHkRsTk3VqdksBNQYBipGxQHSWdl-z7Mopw/s320/MnRuffs.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">MN was wet. Woodcock didn't stick around. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ5erV7ncBvLWYQ-FlkUAUHSJF0R3znBD4e6V3p8l0YNb2SEOQg5ZK4rp3LNoj5sZgmnsEP10QfnTUFdbNUuIRqnszxiVPBG6LVnZQO3C-oBcCtgcBk6vHqB5DJBZoG3I8GAUPHWii4Q/s1600/Cabin.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1065" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ5erV7ncBvLWYQ-FlkUAUHSJF0R3znBD4e6V3p8l0YNb2SEOQg5ZK4rp3LNoj5sZgmnsEP10QfnTUFdbNUuIRqnszxiVPBG6LVnZQO3C-oBcCtgcBk6vHqB5DJBZoG3I8GAUPHWii4Q/s320/Cabin.JPG" width="212" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Grouse Shack. Years of memories.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you haven’t
already, hit the road and find the dog some birds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>November is here. <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />Hansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09669633979678360024noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4389091471144278301.post-51890528433487724672019-08-16T08:12:00.000-07:002019-08-16T08:12:05.714-07:00Treat Autumn As If It Were Your Last<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>On a
recent work trip, I ran into a gentleman at the Billings airport whom I recognized,
but couldn’t quite name or recall how I should know him. Finally, upon our
decent into a larger and less-friendly city, it jumped out at me. He was a bird
hunter and sporting clays shooter from Billings that I had met about 15 years
prior.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Al looked healthy, but so much older.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had gone from vibrant and athletic to hunched-over
and slow-moving. Ever misjudge how long ago certain events really were like I
often do? It may seem like six years since I shot my first Mearns quail, but
was actually closer to ten. I am planning for a 30-year-class reunion next summer
when I could swear I was just wearing Zubaz and making a Duran-Duran mix-tape. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>One of my
favorite saws is “Father Time is Undefeated”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>So, as we near the upcoming season, my mind is racing; how can I make
the make the best use of my precious fall months? What trips should I put on
the precious autumnal calendar?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>All Chukars All The Time.</b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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This is very applicable when one ponders the issue of
aging.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Like elk hunting in the West, it
is a young man’s game.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know I can’t
run uphill chasing a birdy setter forever, so I should be focusing on chukars
even more than I do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While I have shot the
sporty buggers in Montana, Wyoming, and Idaho, I would really like to check off
Oregon and Nevada this fall.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or, do I
make it an epic quest and try and hunt chukars in all states this fall? <o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>More Time At Bird Camp. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In my twenties and thirties, I had taken for granted Dad’s
humble grouse and woodcock getaway in northern Minnesota. Today, its perks
cannot go unnoticed: no hotels or restaurants to roll the dice on, endless
public land and always enough birds to make things interesting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If he was a millennial, Dad would also call
it “his happy place”, which is worth cherishing too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4Ie50u6cPozAZLy44MHC-hoNGJyEjhdNnmLGQ69nDpkOb_Fyhg5sxXW5vo30WIn2ZSFyILMJOR_ymxzZ18xZ30zJTJTvsHJC1lv4xhDKcCqegp2NMIN8KEuceV_O1vQEzrVVPULmrBA/s1600/Elkwood.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="428" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4Ie50u6cPozAZLy44MHC-hoNGJyEjhdNnmLGQ69nDpkOb_Fyhg5sxXW5vo30WIn2ZSFyILMJOR_ymxzZ18xZ30zJTJTvsHJC1lv4xhDKcCqegp2NMIN8KEuceV_O1vQEzrVVPULmrBA/s320/Elkwood.JPG" width="214" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grouse Camp. Where the living is easy. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<b>Blue Grouse Early and Often</b><o:p></o:p></div>
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While I typically start hunting blues (yes, I know about the
dusky-sooty discovery) September 1<sup>st</sup> because of the heat down low on
the flat ground, it is time I respect the hunt for what it is:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>ample bird numbers with decent dog work on
thousands of acres of public land.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
plan to hunt Montana early in our usual coverts and then move on to Wyoming
where a trail run last summer led me to believe that the Cowboy State has blue
grouse dying of old age in some very wild places.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<o:p> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsl9jN0eSA0ShLmGZJ5htt5l_WxIR87wXsHC5ybgS_iDc3e5agSNf3SflbsB-3QucDbXXSZ1o5Ud_GMgqD57PDAMhZysQECt6ubfLjPkRz-jWPlJ7A6hpetprDz8TQ_fmZHb5Q8vp64A/s1600/bluesPoint.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="574" data-original-width="640" height="287" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsl9jN0eSA0ShLmGZJ5htt5l_WxIR87wXsHC5ybgS_iDc3e5agSNf3SflbsB-3QucDbXXSZ1o5Ud_GMgqD57PDAMhZysQECt6ubfLjPkRz-jWPlJ7A6hpetprDz8TQ_fmZHb5Q8vp64A/s320/bluesPoint.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blue grouse hunting. Big country, big views. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</o:p></div>
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<b>Mixology.</b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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Of course there will be the usual trips to the quiet parts
of Montana, looking for Huns, sharptail and roosters.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hopefully, Montana Huns bounce back
significantly, as last season they were few and far between. A day trip to sage
grouse country for a bird or two may transpire some cool morning in September. Crossing
over the eastern border into North Dakota will probably occur in mid-October,
since I was “in the neighborhood”. A trip to Nebraska or Kansas is projected
for that period when winter is taking hold in Montana and heading south makes
good sense.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Speaking of south, Arizona
or New Mexico is always on my radar, but never works out in January due to work
obligations. Maybe this year.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Regardless, life is short, dogs’ lives are shorter and each
autumn seems to be over in the blink of an eye.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Get out there and enjoy every opportunity you get.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilFIIppWEH7d5RSqkvRhTxGXRL1S_k4jBk2uW3c-iAZSwnKmKVADqoY7RWk03xl5eJhF3TYTph3iFARZfzwRuHK38dXkwRdR12PzwNbMg32tdo8gi-NF1oyftWk2A022OTF5AnOz2EyA/s1600/Huns.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="428" data-original-width="640" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilFIIppWEH7d5RSqkvRhTxGXRL1S_k4jBk2uW3c-iAZSwnKmKVADqoY7RWk03xl5eJhF3TYTph3iFARZfzwRuHK38dXkwRdR12PzwNbMg32tdo8gi-NF1oyftWk2A022OTF5AnOz2EyA/s320/Huns.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hunt Huns when they abound. Weather dictates their numbers more than anything. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></div>
<br />Hansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09669633979678360024noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4389091471144278301.post-76430041493033574812019-07-13T18:46:00.000-07:002019-07-13T18:46:52.223-07:00Be a Good Guest <br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Armed with the information-superhighway, more dependable vehicles
and hopefully, more disposable income than our grandparents had, traveling to
hunt birds continues to grow in popularity. Whether it is to check off a
certain bird from our life-list or just get away from the boss at work or the real boss at home, many of us like to venture into different states.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Beyond buying a license and following the
host states' respective rules, there are some other things to keep in mind as
well. Some of these suggestions are obvious, some not.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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The obvious you have heard before: don’t litter, don’t shoot
from the road or from your vehicle, close any gate that you open. Hunters are
often blamed for a lot of actions that we don’t commit, so if we can prevent
that Taco Bell bag from blowing out of our truck let’s prevent it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Many landowners ASSUME all hunters are
road-hunters, so don’t perpetuate that stereotype by shooting a rooster along
their driveway, regardless if you had a rough day.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Ranchers and farmers have also shared with me a few things
over the years that bother them, some of which surprised me, some that make perfect sense.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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While some ranchers love dogs and have a bunch of their own,
it doesn’t mean they want to take care of yours.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Keep your dogs under control when you are
around their farmstead, especially when their cow dogs are loose or if they
have chickens or pets in a vulnerable area.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>One rancher I talked with only allows one dog per hunter, two or three
dogs total, on his ground at a time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sure,
Ben Williams of Hungarian fame has made it vogue to put six or more dogs out,
but some folks see that un-sporting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“What chance does a bird have?” the rancher remarked. I was surprised
that it was something that he even noticed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxsXOsQa61Bf9vBR7kunEUO3SLIS81YoZPxNQPUawuxuGDAj4MttrXv4vLWGotyBvCuIKJJp9GTK0fN6_hUrDHv7NvuhoADkyv4mnDGCF7tzx2st3kzTD6yyWiPrl9dH-v1PV-WHGFyA/s1600/dadcocks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxsXOsQa61Bf9vBR7kunEUO3SLIS81YoZPxNQPUawuxuGDAj4MttrXv4vLWGotyBvCuIKJJp9GTK0fN6_hUrDHv7NvuhoADkyv4mnDGCF7tzx2st3kzTD6yyWiPrl9dH-v1PV-WHGFyA/s400/dadcocks.jpg" width="300" /></a>Don’t just close those gates, don’t block them either.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You never know what day the rancher will move
cows or need to get at his bales.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Speaking of parking, don’t park in tall grass.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Things are often tinder-dry in late fall and
if you knew how fast grass fires can grow, it would give you nightmares.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have also heard a story about a hunter that
lost his vehicle to a grass fire, along with his dog that was getting the
afternoon off.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dreadful. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If in doubt, don’t shoot anywhere close to buildings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>State laws vary on how close you can LEGALLY
shoot in regard to occupied buildings or homes, but keep in mind, a farmer in
his shop or his spouse working in her flower garden, especially downwind, will
not know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If the report is loud, he or
she may think you are shooting the house-covey of Huns and meet you at your
truck for a discussion.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Rain, snow = mud.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This is a tricky one, something I have been guilty of a few times as
well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Folks that live in the country
have to use those roads on a daily basis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They would rather we not rut them up, if we can avoid it. There are
times when we get caught in something that we didn’t expect and if you travel
across three states to hunt, we would rather not sit in the motel room all day
watching college football. But, some days we would be better off staying on the
pavement. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Lastly, a rancher told me while he butchers his own chickens and shoots a few pheasants every year, he doesn't like seeing bird carcasses or feathers blowing in the wind. In other words, don't clean birds near roads, Walk-In sign-up boxes or some place where a farm dog could feast on a bunch of sharptail guts. </div>
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<br /></div>
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As access to private lands continues to be important, is it
imperative that we do our best to not give landowners any reason to close the
gates for good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Dakotas, Montana,
Kansas and other states have great Walk-In access programs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, each year a few of those are lost due to
poor behavior. That is a terrible reason to lose a potential new favorite
pheasant or sharptail covert.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br />Hansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09669633979678360024noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4389091471144278301.post-55043114345714881442019-04-02T20:58:00.001-07:002019-04-02T20:58:56.385-07:00Can We Just Hunt Already?<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP19gSihJdHXh13EwlkcTPc6KebkGvI9ZSbAkskSy9UWf14DWXD3g5OkDHdXh0Ocli-fgQ1krZtwi6nvIe4ap2N-6UTj5EHOX_YaOmLp3afkqfhmWTLx7sO6EPS9CCcOyFC0kkmkT6Tg/s1600/IMG_9068.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1294" data-original-width="1294" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP19gSihJdHXh13EwlkcTPc6KebkGvI9ZSbAkskSy9UWf14DWXD3g5OkDHdXh0Ocli-fgQ1krZtwi6nvIe4ap2N-6UTj5EHOX_YaOmLp3afkqfhmWTLx7sO6EPS9CCcOyFC0kkmkT6Tg/s320/IMG_9068.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Better than the forbidden tailgate photo? Perhaps. But, someone still chirped about it when it was posted.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br /></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
When did the study and discussion of bird hunting become
bigger than the hunt itself? Waxing poetic is fine and it sells magazine
articles. However, there should be some muddy boots, snoring dogs and some bird
guts in a bucket after a long day too. Embrace the legacy of the hunt for what
it is or else take up tennis and fly fishing. Here are some current trends that
will probably come and go with a little luck. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Field-to-Fork.
Prairie-to-Plate, etc.</b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why is this a
thing? Is it novel to shoot a bird, clean it and cook it?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We all have favorite recipes and we often
experiment with new ones.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hunters have
been cooking their own game for years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
guess it is a good thing that urban folks are embracing the hunt from a food
perspective. But, I am not sure it needs a catchy name or corporate mission
statement. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Pluck it schmuck. </b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Speaking of cleaning your own birds, I have
seen some social media posts this past autumn calling out others who skin birds
versus plucking them. “You are doing the bird and yourself and your family a
disservice!” “Skinning birds is breaking game waste laws!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Stop.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You
just killed the bird, plucking it isn’t akin to catch-and-release fishing. We also
know the difference in the final product and appreciate the advantage of leaving
the skin on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, it also depends on the
end game.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For roasting, yes, skin is
in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you are making chicken nuggets
out of your birds or a sweet-and-sour stir fry, it doesn’t matter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you want to pluck eight Huns, three
pheasants and four sharptail after that long drive home from a banner day in
North Dakota, knock yourself out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am
skinning and grinning in that instance. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Fit-to-Hunt, Chukar
Cardio Club, Feel The Rut Supplements……...</b> I relate to this Olivia
Newton-John “Let’s Get Physical” mission at some level. I am probably more
skewed this direction than the guy that roads his dogs with an ATV and is
carrying an extra 50 around his mid-section. But, if you are the same guy
posting photos of yourself at the gym, this goes hand-in-hand with your
narcissistic side.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Do you even lift bro?</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I do work
out nearly every day, some of which is at high-elevation, but no one else
cares. Maybe the dogs do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you are in
shape, they get to hunt longer. Staying in shape for hunting should be as
routine as eating the birds you bag and doesn’t require a Facebook Group.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Instragram Judge and
Jury.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></b>Similarly to the plucking
folks, there are a few strong opinions on the Internet, always quick to point
out the injustices of the world, one being the dreaded tailgate photo.
“Shameful”. “Barbaric”. “Unoriginal”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I understand
that stacks of birds can appear to some folks as wasteful and disrespectful. The
truth of the matter is that tailgates are easy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Often, birds on the ground or ones held up by hunters don’t show up well
in photos.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For those of us that use
photos as part of our hunting journals, there is some record-keeping advantage
to those lined-up roosters and Huns. Looking back at my old photos of ruffed
grouse hunts, I can quickly verify the peak years of the grouse cycle versus
the bottom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As far as being original, I
am not sure there is anything original anymore.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The grouse/woodcock with a leather bird strap or pheasants hanging on
barbed-wire, yup, been done. Often. While a tailgate photo may never make the
cover of an upland magazine, it isn’t destroying bird hunting as we know it.
Trust me, I love and respect those birds as much as you do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am looking forward to the day where we can once again simply
hunt for the love of the birds and dogs, not question someone else’s style or
motives.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Unethical and illegal actions
need to be addressed. There is no tolerance there. But, let’s not make our
passion as hateful as politics and as complicated as an Ikea dresser.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Load up the dog, grab the gun and just go
hunting. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Next episode: The invention of the term <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Prey Drive</i> and dog breeders’ love of it. Also, we search out the
three upland bird hunters that do not have a podcast. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP5XKahe8t2yR9q3um-FQxVWGPZqGHS9aITBFYc_EkaUYE2RtIoSjuVn01Ql6o16wetgfNLaGDjMMCr1AqRLkjhpmZOcCYtv0KQFHOo1-z3umtNLTWQQSi6JrNsoYUC4q4ItPWRvPVAw/s1600/DadRuffs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1500" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP5XKahe8t2yR9q3um-FQxVWGPZqGHS9aITBFYc_EkaUYE2RtIoSjuVn01Ql6o16wetgfNLaGDjMMCr1AqRLkjhpmZOcCYtv0KQFHOo1-z3umtNLTWQQSi6JrNsoYUC4q4ItPWRvPVAw/s320/DadRuffs.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dad and some ruffs circa 1966. Field to kitchen, if you will. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />Hansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09669633979678360024noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4389091471144278301.post-66434742892371319502019-02-05T19:17:00.000-08:002019-02-05T19:17:50.514-08:00End-of-Season House Cleaning<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZVqSnM2IfMqeYS53ewHYJf4t0xLtpg1TAOYkRS-MRMO7rKIKIzsvPg6_fsJN75Vkk-2BEM4iJqGqd_cKAnc34zOzLoYE4FISSyBe_6qgBV5xiBL3QdO8PXxBqOUaUej_6fGat8yplBw/s1600/LettiHun.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZVqSnM2IfMqeYS53ewHYJf4t0xLtpg1TAOYkRS-MRMO7rKIKIzsvPg6_fsJN75Vkk-2BEM4iJqGqd_cKAnc34zOzLoYE4FISSyBe_6qgBV5xiBL3QdO8PXxBqOUaUej_6fGat8yplBw/s320/LettiHun.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Letti's first Hun that she pointed and retrieved in September. I am glad I didn't miss. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
My unfinished basement, where my unfinished den is adjacent to the incomplete home-gym, shows a season of neglect. September 1st through January 31st to be exact. After each upland adventure, I would quickly unload the truck, clean and package birds (if I was so fortunate) and hurriedly stash my hunting gear and road trip-leftovers downstairs. After five months of this run-and-gun behavior, the basement looks like a combination of a college frat house and a rummage sale.<br />
<br />
So, a very small part of me- very small- is almost glad the 2018-2019 bird season is over. Time away from family, a console full of gas receipts and hours of driving lonely roads in the dark does takes its toll. After a quick analysis of my hunting journal, a few aspects stand out.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b><u>Misses</u></b><br />
<br />
<u>Montana Huns.</u> The report of their demise was not greatly exaggerated. Poorest Hungarian year in twenty years according to my records. A terrible drought with very low brood numbers in the summer of 2017, followed by a long winter, played a role in poor numbers this season. Pheasants were OK in Montana, sharptail were also down, but not as severely as Huns. Surprisingly, the blue grouse were off by about 50% as well. Very few juvenile blue grouse were bagged compared to adult birds.<br />
<br />
<u>Eastern Idaho Chukar.</u> I had thought chukars in the eastern side of the state would have rebounded from their wipeout after the wicked winter of 2016-2017. When biologists tell you that 90% of the birds were lost to winter mortality, pay attention. I like to think I can always walk my way into birds and a good hunt, but not this time.<br />
<br />
<u>Minnesota woodcock and weather.</u> I was about a week or two late for the peak of the woodcock flight at at the grouse camp. Fortunately, the ruffed grouse had rebounded from the dip the previous season. Unfortunately, an early October snowstorm locked things up for most of my hunt.<br />
<br />
<u>The pup's retrieving</u>. Needs work, as her mouth was a bit rough on birds. But, I hadn't worked a lick on retrieving, so more my fault than hers.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP3sVe-Nv_YWQxYMTuvbaKQmg4v0yUqsN5WD6I52bibk0TRdqf_6z0NUjEOSW-0-prx-V1HSr6Wom_HQ3rM8CSF6OwI8v5EVg6SH-E1rsqOjpFIDlpJTem34yML7cWSd-Vr6oG3nq-5A/s1600/DadMN.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP3sVe-Nv_YWQxYMTuvbaKQmg4v0yUqsN5WD6I52bibk0TRdqf_6z0NUjEOSW-0-prx-V1HSr6Wom_HQ3rM8CSF6OwI8v5EVg6SH-E1rsqOjpFIDlpJTem34yML7cWSd-Vr6oG3nq-5A/s320/DadMN.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grouse were up in Minnesota. Unfortunately, we had a foot of snow during my trip.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<b><u>Hits</u></b><br />
<br />
<u>Wyoming Chukar.</u> Could be a sleeper state. To be continued.<br />
<br />
<u>Kansas Walk-In lands.</u> Program continues to grow and supports a lot opportunity for both pheasants and bobwhite.<br />
<br />
<u>Idaho California quail.</u> Chukar get my attention, but lower on the mountain, the valley quail are a lot of fun. And they never weight down your vest, even with a limit.<br />
<br />
<u>The new truck camper.</u> Waking up in bird camp, not having to check out of a hotel room or pay pet fees was pretty slick. While I had to be careful to not get the rig stuck or in an area with low-clearance, it was a treat to come back to the truck at noon, heat up some coffee and fix a hot lunch out of the wind. Napping wasn't allowed. OK, just once.<br />
<br />
<u>The 28 gauge</u>. I continue to shoot the smaller-gauge gun more, my 20 less and less. I seem to shoot the gun better; probably as simple as it being lighter and faster. There are some fringe benefits as well: shells weigh less in the vest and I am a digging fewer pellets out of each bird.<br />
<br />
<u>The pup's natural ability.</u> I bought the Ryman setter mostly for her engine. I wanted a work horse, not a race horse. Her nose is good, her temperament is gentle. I look forward to the next chapter with her in just seven months. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVtKPt6fZ7b-Jhmz0Ap9Hx_qWhwjPQITtfFrf0jSAXb240XCBYOP1clReWFGCeg7omUhuVm5BhPUfjUWm2wFOcev98pNpi7acyHe2uVQmDvS7DJW5MjW85uGNAMnMTnB-znnjuZk3ALg/s1600/Shells.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVtKPt6fZ7b-Jhmz0Ap9Hx_qWhwjPQITtfFrf0jSAXb240XCBYOP1clReWFGCeg7omUhuVm5BhPUfjUWm2wFOcev98pNpi7acyHe2uVQmDvS7DJW5MjW85uGNAMnMTnB-znnjuZk3ALg/s320/Shells.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Counting up the shots taken for the season. The numbers aren't as important as the memories.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />Hansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09669633979678360024noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4389091471144278301.post-46783919267639854882018-12-20T10:01:00.001-08:002018-12-20T10:01:10.385-08:00Flyover States Road Tripping<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmzZ7yyxW66ahO-kuoqdtR_jiGJ1FRO7_Ch4IAtvNaDxKvr1uRKj3zMppgCe1raqlfNp_paaUwfRfJlLeXch0xFc7P7KBqzrNj19p_lSXgUnkdfJD9kJxPjs1pNWbW_nAU5cBCytrl9w/s1600/Walkin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmzZ7yyxW66ahO-kuoqdtR_jiGJ1FRO7_Ch4IAtvNaDxKvr1uRKj3zMppgCe1raqlfNp_paaUwfRfJlLeXch0xFc7P7KBqzrNj19p_lSXgUnkdfJD9kJxPjs1pNWbW_nAU5cBCytrl9w/s320/Walkin.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
Our secondary goal was to only spend money in towns with less
than 5,000 people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In Montana, Wyoming,
Nebraska and Kansas, it is fairly easy to do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The primary goal was to hunt wild bobwhites on public lands or
state-sponsored Walk-In parcels of private land. The latter goal of putting young dogs on birds was much more important than the former, but both are closely linked to making a road
trip enjoyable.<o:p></o:p></div>
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While gas is typically more expensive in a one-pump town, we
found gas to be more economical in Broadus, Montana than in the energy hub of
Gillette, Wyoming.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Go figure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sure, taxes are a big part of petrol, but it
really doesn’t make sense. Gas prices ranged from $2.79 to $2.05.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>$2 a gallon is almost bearable, even in the
GMC truck that guzzles gas like college guys drink free keg beer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Not spending any money on motels offset the higher fuel expense. The nightly pet fees were one of the final straws when deciding to camp instead of looking for the nearest Motel 6. Leaving dogs in a truck in a strange parking lot was never an option in my book. </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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I justify food costs by stating that you have to eat
wherever you are.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With the new pickup
camper, I always have the fridge and stove within walking distance, so I seem
to be eating more home-cooked eggs for breakfast, followed by gourmet hot dogs
at lunch. One thing I really look forward to on out-of-state adventures is dining out with
the locals in these small burgs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
folks are closer in dress and beliefs than what I would encounter in Omaha,
Denver or Kansas City.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They know we are
visiting from “down the road a spell”, so they inquire, wanting to know our
story.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When the answer to the question
is Montana, they aren’t often offended, usually surprised we left good hunting
to find good hunting. If they still don’t believe our rationale, then we just
explain that we are trying to avoid our wives and then they give us that smirk of
acceptance. A couple of things I have learned about these cafés over the years
are: 1) don’t order seafood no matter what the special is 2) the farther south
you go, the better the Mexican food is (thanks Captain Obvious) 3) don’t assume
they take debit cards. Cash is still king in small towns. <o:p></o:p><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7onmeIMVF5jL4kqtjg3jTfjHylyu4dwBHK7cBWcQrKN1e_gQKBZATLES3Nl_fn-EHgsTaNuNCJabxzeZ9WVyDKo8fWHt7uv2KXFzttc5UR6sNCxWikdV7HZlbwHYBYs63_YOYFfIa5Q/s1600/QuailCamp.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7onmeIMVF5jL4kqtjg3jTfjHylyu4dwBHK7cBWcQrKN1e_gQKBZATLES3Nl_fn-EHgsTaNuNCJabxzeZ9WVyDKo8fWHt7uv2KXFzttc5UR6sNCxWikdV7HZlbwHYBYs63_YOYFfIa5Q/s320/QuailCamp.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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The hunting wasn’t bad on this December journey.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> However, </span>Day One was a complete loss, as winds gusted from 35 – 55 mph all day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Typically on a road trip,
20-30MPH is manageable, as you are fairly pressured to get out in the field. Not ideal, but a little windburn never hurt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>55mph is impossible, no matter how tough you think you are.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even scouting Nebraska and Kansas Walk-In
areas by vehicle was tough. Dust was blowing, birds weren’t showing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Good thing for XM radio and good coffee. </span><o:p></o:p><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkwj4fApEeTFsGqacGhuVOsnX8X4L8LaqZ_LQmqSgunzPTR5tn32_hc-tpFZob3sS4fRqbu9CGgRUmKwkiXThhlF0q4yJZ2VjgFSW9XR6Y3LpWPHWz4t0lZQnt4NiypGYv2b5WT69xrg/s1600/AeroPoint.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="435" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkwj4fApEeTFsGqacGhuVOsnX8X4L8LaqZ_LQmqSgunzPTR5tn32_hc-tpFZob3sS4fRqbu9CGgRUmKwkiXThhlF0q4yJZ2VjgFSW9XR6Y3LpWPHWz4t0lZQnt4NiypGYv2b5WT69xrg/s320/AeroPoint.jpg" width="217" /></a></div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></div>
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We did get into bobs right off the bat on Day Two. They were
dug into heavy cover early in the morning, clearly haven taken refuge from the previous
day’s hurricane-force blasts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> The coveys we saw were all large and healthy and sat tight for the young setters. </span>By
avoiding the same dreaded population centers, we seldom saw another
hunter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We never did see another
blaze-clad person afield, only a few driving the highways, pulling their Jones
Trailers from their motel to a nearby field.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The dog work was good, shooting was mediocre, the small town
living in the flyover states couldn’t be better.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjPBn65HeyLFKsAfxG7Z349z9__m-bTBrzKHlEEwIPItLIM78iQedRl1Ag-2LNWuG7ePZfOLcUUytL8hMo_RyaT-Jbtprwl31fptqq8-XzuQPrPRULU-v-FyErgnFRRbU4rAKoSsc3BQ/s1600/quailboat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjPBn65HeyLFKsAfxG7Z349z9__m-bTBrzKHlEEwIPItLIM78iQedRl1Ag-2LNWuG7ePZfOLcUUytL8hMo_RyaT-Jbtprwl31fptqq8-XzuQPrPRULU-v-FyErgnFRRbU4rAKoSsc3BQ/s320/quailboat.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br />Hansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09669633979678360024noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4389091471144278301.post-72670688000674750562018-09-24T20:29:00.004-07:002018-09-24T20:29:36.686-07:00Bird Hunting In A Digital World <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsuZY0hL9SCkTUNMTc9q-K6hSDBaBDX-960lk9hGOWVHCtSkNBXKAwd8Pc9NHZlT_dQ9OvKG7iuEDReLoPe-72BnXNWMLMv_Nk_nGx8u7_atSGUGMnshqrxX5HaYxOuoSVltz5ZCMqTg/s1600/dadhuns.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="428" data-original-width="640" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsuZY0hL9SCkTUNMTc9q-K6hSDBaBDX-960lk9hGOWVHCtSkNBXKAwd8Pc9NHZlT_dQ9OvKG7iuEDReLoPe-72BnXNWMLMv_Nk_nGx8u7_atSGUGMnshqrxX5HaYxOuoSVltz5ZCMqTg/s320/dadhuns.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A great day of Hun hunting with Dad and dogs. No questions please. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
It was before my time, but I am guessing old-school scribes like Ted Trueblood didn't receive snotty emails or scolding messages through social media. If he wrote an article for Outdoor Life, it was probably months, maybe years before it was published and someone took the time to mail him a letter to a NY office building. Those days are dramatically different from today's instant gratification, immediate reporting, Instagram-Tweeting culture.<br />
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<div>
I have often chided those folks that have to share a photo of every meal they eat outside of their home or the dudes from the gym announcing to the cyber world that they are at the gym. <i>No days off bruh</i>! Well, many of us bird hunters are just as guilty. If you spend a little bit of time on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter or Snapchat, (Snap the kids like to say) you will see plenty of autobiographical updates from the field. </div>
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<div>
<i>First double on Huns! Limited out in two hours! Best dog work South Dakota has seen! </i>You get the idea. I am guilty of certain facets of the above, hopefully not quite as vain. With more exposure and more followers/friends/fans, comes more compliments and more criticism. If you continue to post tailgates full of chukars or sharptail, people want to know more. And you can't blame them. <br />
<br />
Last season, I provided information to a "father-son, bucket-list, dream trip" request on where to find their first sharptail grouse in the Treasure State. When they (it ended up being father/son and two buddies of the father) struck out, they also lashed out. At me. Turns out, they couldn't read maps and I didn't warn them that rain makes muddy roads. Sorry, I guess. More recently, I was asked about Montana prairie bird numbers and based on 20 years of records, I responded that this year's bird crop was below average. After I had posted a photo of a very modest day with the pup's bag of two sharptail and three Huns, the same individual felt I was being dishonest. I was about to explain myself, describing the number of miles walked to see one flock of sharptail and two coveys of Huns, but then I said the heck with it. I had grass to mow and a few birds to clean. Very few. </div>
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<div>
A recent post by a fellow blogger, remarked about the sudden increase in traffic in his blue grouse coverts. But, as an advocate for his passion in print and photos, is he making his neck of the grouse woods more crowded? Don't we need to keep hunter numbers strong for the continued health of our sport? If social media promotes hunting in a favorable light to the next generation, then our intent is just. However, <b>Not In My Back Yard</b> is real and we are all guilty of wanting to share our passion, just not share our opening day pheasant slough or ruffed grouse grove.<br />
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Hansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09669633979678360024noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4389091471144278301.post-36497757721413874682018-06-18T20:22:00.003-07:002018-06-18T20:22:36.504-07:00Expectations vs RealityJune 1st just passed us by. Which in Montana, means bird eggs are cracking, the rain is going to dry up and ranchers are haying like it is going out of style. Usually. Not this year, where the countryside is green and Minnesota-lush. We have had nice, consistent rains which keep watersheds awash with wash and keep the ranchers in the coffee shops instead of in tractors putting chicks in peril. So, it should be a heckuva bird year, right? Too soon to tell. A lot can happen between our nation's birthday and the Upland Bird Holiday of September 1. But, expectations are fairly high. About a 7 out of 10.<br />
<br />
The pup is 4 months old today. With two months of training, plenty of trail runs in the mountains and access to wild birds out the back door and front, Letti should be a setter puppy prodigy. Her pedigree was worthy of a drive home from Kansas and the best dog food one can find in an Uber-free village this size. She seems to be a quick-learner and her Ryman genes appear to be less spastic than my previous Llewellyns. Expectations are about an 8 out of 10.<br />
<br />
The little guy in the house that shares my surname and shiny dome will be one-year-old September 30th. Mom has to nearly fight for custody with our two grandmas that live in town, competing to change his diapers. My Dad hunted more than most bachelors when I was a toddler, so that trait needs to be passed down to the next generation, I believe. And, work will be slow, with no conflicts with travel from Montana blue grouse season through Hun and sharptail season to Minnesota ruffed grouse season to Montana pheasant opener through Idaho chukar season in January. I will be able to get away at least 45 days this fall because I deserve it.<br />
<br />
Expectations, about 3 out of ten.<br />
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Bring on September!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLm2mnGEjkikyEzwFbIf_SMKO8WPT1uEn-x1w5x-6z5k3bBwgHLKCOrts80OSNl_Dr3rGSqHJub99y2H9T71dzKSiTPBayVwKNcmJvXdq3vAfBvHjTI2NEaIDaWrRSEmCKSOqwDONglg/s1600/pups.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1198" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLm2mnGEjkikyEzwFbIf_SMKO8WPT1uEn-x1w5x-6z5k3bBwgHLKCOrts80OSNl_Dr3rGSqHJub99y2H9T71dzKSiTPBayVwKNcmJvXdq3vAfBvHjTI2NEaIDaWrRSEmCKSOqwDONglg/s320/pups.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>
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<br />Hansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09669633979678360024noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4389091471144278301.post-72661530944457625392018-04-27T20:28:00.001-07:002018-04-27T20:28:13.555-07:00My Next Best Dog<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy7V8VF8qxd-B0OqEAyrSLS2vpSndMC3p5RtdddILL0LznHMkCZRBKmFGbpv4o72aAp0p7wwTmIEbG_luOdjK0wCAQqgiBpQAYTD2QKHbjy_v7zTuyzuTKIIjXzBcSfKezlTRw-a5_IQ/s1600/letti2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy7V8VF8qxd-B0OqEAyrSLS2vpSndMC3p5RtdddILL0LznHMkCZRBKmFGbpv4o72aAp0p7wwTmIEbG_luOdjK0wCAQqgiBpQAYTD2QKHbjy_v7zTuyzuTKIIjXzBcSfKezlTRw-a5_IQ/s320/letti2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
I pulled into the driveway at home, mid-afternoon
Monday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had left Firelight Kennels in Kansas the previous
morning, so I was punch-drunk from driving, not quite sure what I was
seeing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, after watching the pair of
Hungarians waddle off into the lawn, I smiled and said “Welcome to Montana
Letti!”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Throughout</span> the long, tough winter,
I hadn’t seen a Hun since November, but they reappeared this April day to welcome our new
setter pup home.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>With
every pup comes unbridled hope and optimism. We forget what little brats they
can be, only expecting the best traits that our previous bird dogs
offered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is easy to fast-forward in
our mind to their first point, their first blue grouse, first woodcock and so
on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ideally, the birds have a great
hatch this spring, CRP is fully-funded by Congress and work allows ample time
to get in the field.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Will it be my best dog
ever? Hard to say. With each dog we gain more experience training a pup and have
more disposable income to travel to the birdy haunts we have learned over the
years. Outside factors such as weather, habitat and wildlife regulations can
make an impact.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There will never be
five-bird limits again on woodcock or a four-month long season on sage
grouse. The thick, endless CRP of the pheasant belt in the Nineties might not ever be duplicated.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, there will be birds to hunt
somewhere. Letti will have a good life. I guarantee it.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br />Hansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09669633979678360024noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4389091471144278301.post-24565196489575992302018-02-12T21:35:00.000-08:002018-02-12T21:42:45.026-08:00OK, This Is Another Sad Dog Story<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOdga1LPTDFtUo1VOQlJqSKqSz8h7DbzHKFzXs6CvCU1d0tmPBpFn0Uyds8f9uuawTlesmE6aEAGYKzXTn1gOZb8Miqj10xpUDhjBXgz3WQyz5qOIIIDvEbye_XmNI3z3UisVyBDo1Ag/s1600/TessAbby.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1072" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOdga1LPTDFtUo1VOQlJqSKqSz8h7DbzHKFzXs6CvCU1d0tmPBpFn0Uyds8f9uuawTlesmE6aEAGYKzXTn1gOZb8Miqj10xpUDhjBXgz3WQyz5qOIIIDvEbye_XmNI3z3UisVyBDo1Ag/s320/TessAbby.jpg" width="214" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tess locked up on a Montana rooster, Abby honoring. </td></tr>
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I have been crying a lot lately. Not from another dismal showing by the Vikings in the big game, but from something much more meaningful. Part of the family is gone, 12 years of my life or 26% of it, has been officially been written. Marriage, loss of a grandparent, the start of a new business, the sale of a business, a new career, a new house, another new career and the birth of my son, occurred in that life span. The recent breakdown originated this weekend as I grabbed a package of blue grouse out of the freezer. It was marked September 3rd and brought me back to a day when both of my girls were with me, hunting near timberline, on a mountain ridge in central Montana. I was enjoying a meal without them, one they had a big part in.<br />
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I lost my English setter Abby in September. Heart-attack or stroke, ten minutes into a quick Montana sharptail hunt. Not the worst way to go, but still sudden and painful. She was my younger hunting partner and at age 11, she was going to get me through one more season, before a pup joined the team. Tess, she was 13 heading into this season and was mostly retired. Heck, she was slowing down in the fall of 2015. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Abby backing Tess, with a sharptail in her mouth. </td></tr>
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Shortly after Abby died, the vet said the cause for Tess' lack of appetite and constant cough was a combination of a mass in the lungs and lymphoma. He might have said more, but I was numb. I wasn't really listening, too busy feeling sorry for myself and for Tess. One to six months was the best guess. Some steroids and some love were my only hope. </div>
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Tess made it longer than she should have. I went from trying to shoot one bird over her in September to being to enjoy her hunting blue grouse, ruffed grouse, valley quail, pheasants, chukar, sharptail and Huns, albeit at a slower pace for just a few hours per outing. But, I would take it. We had a great fall together, chasing daylight in her career, appreciating every minute of her life. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tess with a soft-mouthed Hun. </td></tr>
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Losing two beloved bird dogs in less than six months isn't something that I would wish on anyone. But, it almost needed to be that way. They were a team for the past decade. Man, did we hunt. 45 days a fall, in a number of states, on a number of upland bird species. We fished mountain lakes together and trail ran in the summer. Tess and Abby waited patiently every morning to share my leftover milk from my cereal. Like a couple that had been married for decades, when one passes, the other soon follows. </div>
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Thanks girls. You are making me cry again. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The girls on their one-and-only bobwhite hunting trip to Kansas. </td></tr>
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Hansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09669633979678360024noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4389091471144278301.post-51006287210380510402018-01-07T21:34:00.003-08:002018-01-07T21:34:51.316-08:00Sometimes We Just Need To Hit The Road<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I tried to convince someone to join me on my next sojourn across the West. But, I didn't try too hard. Dad was offered first, but as he ages he doesn't enjoy strange motel beds or long drives. It is unfortunate, as he has the young pup that could use the experience. Also, Dad and I have the good fortune of sharing many memorable trips together whether it was on his first chukars just a few years ago or my first pheasant decades ago.<br />
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Other folks I invited had commitments. Some seemed justified, some seemed lame, at least in my eyes. Regardless, twisting someone's arm to go hunting is never a good thing. Most of all, I really enjoy solo road trips to clear the mind and see new country.<br />
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The obvious benefit about traveling alone is being 100% in control. You can eat at the same greasy spoon three meals in a row if you choose, your sleep revolves around your schedule not around unwanted snoring and there is no one to fight over the satellite radio stations. Most folks I know would want to put up with my unorthodox mix of Garth Brooks, the NHL network, Studio 54 Radio and the BBC.<br />
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Absolute quiet is also good therapy at times. Driving across the flyover states is often quite mindless. Just a man and his thoughts. I keep a small notepad handy as I expand on my to-do list which usually includes mundane tasks around the house that have been neglected due to the bird season which began September 1st. That list may or may not include such duties as splitting kindling for the wood stove and spending time with my wife. The only time I really lack a co-pilot is when I am tiring from driving at night. Or when I pull up to the gas pump. "I got this one," I enjoy saying to myself.<br />
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Many of us admit that as we age and become more set in our ways, we would rather hunt alone than hunt with someone who we clash with. Those we avoid includes cheapskates, spot-stealers, slow-walkers , drunkards and shoot-low-over-the-dog types. I also like to hunt alone for <i>their</i> benefit. While hunting tried-and-true coverts is practical, exploring new territory is half of the adventure. But, with that reward of finding a hidden pheasant slough or Hun homestead, comes a lot of empty miles and hours lost. If I am alone, I only feel bad for the tired dogs, not myself. I recently took a co-worker chukar hunting to the Idaho-Oregon border country, some of the roughest country around. After a long drive on icy roads, thousands of feet of elevation gained each day hiking and very few shots fired, he readily accepted the offer of an early exit home on day three. I enjoyed seeing new ground, habitat that was bordering on too steep for hunters and too dangerous. But, we did see chukars, so I will be back.<br />
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I recently departed Montana over the holidays for an area void of snow, seven hours away and with only a 13-year-old setter with lymphoma in tow. My immediate family gave me that cock of the head that said, "What? Why?" But, most fellow bird hunters know why. The off-season is long, dogs don't live long enough and sometimes, maybe 1 out of 4, the open road to new country leads us to that bit of heaven that we yearn for. It was the final road trip for my setter girl Tess and seeing her do her thing one last time was something you cannot put a price tag on. She ate mostly table scraps, slept in bed with me each night and rode in the truck seat next to me. I drove on icy roads most of the way home, but I would do it all over again.<br />
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<br />Hansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09669633979678360024noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4389091471144278301.post-61017809661179978242017-11-27T20:50:00.002-08:002017-11-27T20:50:26.584-08:00Hunting Naked<i>I will never find myself in this situation again. </i><br />
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I have muttered these words under my breath more than once this fall. Due to complexities at home(a baby boy September 30th, an unexpected passing of my younger dog and my new setter pup being adopted by my father due to reason #1) I found myself with very limited dog power come early October. Tess, the 13 year-old setter has been limping along, having been diagnosed with lymphoma and has good days and bad days. I have shot a few "last birds" over her, including blue grouse, ruffs, Huns, pheasants and sharptail. If she doesn't wake up tomorrow morning, her final season has been blessed.<br />
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I should be old enough to not allow emotion to trump practicality. Driving eight hours with a 13 year-old setter to hunt chukars in the most rugged uplands in the US? That makes no sense. But, like we always do, we justify our bogus decisions with alternative facts. <i> People can travel for hiking trips, right? The weather is abnormally nice for November. I can get into chukars by simply walking farther and faster, even if Tess is unable to perform. Sure. </i><br />
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Bird hunters rarely arrive in a new area and find instant success with a covey behind every turn. In fact, we often find ourselves driving around with maps and a GPS, hunting for a spot to hunt. This expedition was no different and finally by 9AM, we were headed uphill. It wasn't quite T-shirt weather, but I have learned to avoid overdressing on the ascent, so we had stripped down to our baselayers. Tess was with me on this maiden voyage and seemed to be fairing alright as we went up one ridge and down another. Unfortunately, we didn't move any birds in this first five mile up and down and Tess was finished for the day.<br />
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You don't drive across two states to only hunt three hours and sit in a bar watching football. And, I <i>wanted</i> to be in this country. I needed to feel the burn and see the views. Like any other addiction, I had to catch those darn chukars on top. Chase them up to the ridges and be lucky enough to find a few in range as I wipe the sweat from my brow. Not having a dog on the ground would be different, but not impossible.<br />
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You know how the story ends. Birds flush at inopportune times, when one isn't ready. And in chukar country, that time is often. Instead of going where a dog's nose leads you, the simple path of least resistance is taken. Even with a dog, we never know how many birds we pass by when hunting big country of the West. Without a dog, that number increases tenfold. Maybe more. The phrase, <i>A Walk With A Shotgun</i> comes to mind. My Dad's description of "free exercise", also is applicable when a hunt is nearly fruitless.<br />
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But, perhaps the worst aspect of hunting without a dog, bordering on unethical, is when recovering game. I watched my partner, an energetic fellow who was on a mission to shoot his first wild chukar, wing a bird at 40 yards below him. I did my best to hustle over and play the role of retriever, but without any easy path to him, I wasn't much help immediately. We searched for over 30 minutes, working various figure-eights around his cap, but to no avail. Silence overcame both of us, knowing that while one bird doesn't not equal extinction of the species, but it sure felt like it. Keenan was upset and I should have known better. The odds of a well-trained dog finding the bird are high.<br />
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Denny Green, the late football coach had a classic line years ago when he tersely stated, "They are who we thought they were!" Well, bird dogs are what we know they are. Irreplaceable in the field and without them, we are really just going through the motions. <br />
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<i>I will never find myself in this situation again.</i><br />
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<br />Hansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09669633979678360024noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4389091471144278301.post-7569085299698112102017-10-22T23:15:00.002-07:002017-10-22T23:15:14.623-07:00Not Another Sad Dog Story - I PromiseI have read enough dog memorials and other reflections on the painful loss of a hunting dog that I choose to skip them, if I am tipped off. It isn't out of a lack of compassion or empathy for a fellow hunter, but more of a defensive mechanism on my part. I have lost many dogs and it is always difficult. For the majority of us who do not have kennel-only dogs, but dogs that are at our side day and night, the loss is definitely similar to losing a family member.<br />
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Losing Abby was sad, but there was plenty of celebration and appreciation along with her death. Abby also died while hunting, an apparent heart attack, just ten minutes into a morning walk for sharptail in central Montana. She literally tipped over mid-stride and did not suffer at all. We all have had hunting dogs that have endured a long illness, gradually losing function and quality of life. Decisions around those illnesses are much more difficult and often delayed. How many of us would prefer to pass away while doing something we truly love?<br />
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On the drive home, I assumed that the next step was cremation, which I had done with previous setters whose time had come. But, when my mind was pondering on where I should spread her ashes, the options were nearly limitless, complicating my decision. Abby, and her older sister Tess, had shared hundreds of days afield with me, in many locations. Blue grouse, sharptail, pheasants, sage grouse and Hungarians in Montana, grouse and woodcock in Minnesota, quail in Kansas, chukars in Idaho and Wyoming and ptarmigan in Colorado. Abby and I averaged about 45 days each fall together, often sharing a bed and a corn dog on the ride home. I decided that I would bury Abby on my property, under a Ponderosa tree, allowing me to visit her grave in perpetuity.<br />
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Abby was a quirky little girl. She pointed shadows and bugs on the wall. But, she was steady on point, so why mess with that? Abby also had a fairly annoying habit of carrying shoes around the house, which was a pain when you wanted to leave in a hurry, but were missing one shoe. Again, she was the best retrieving setter I have had, so what the heck.<br />
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Abby was 11, which is on the older end of the spectrum for a hunting dog. But, she was the younger of my two setter girls, so I was leaning on her to be my primary hunting companion this fall. She was showing some signs of slowing down this September, especially on long, tough climbs for blue grouse. I blamed a lot of her sluggishness on the unusually warm weather, but now I know the problem ran deeper. Her last bird was a blue grouse that she pointed for me in the Little Belt Mountains. That is another reason that this tale is not sad, but a celebration of a bird dog's life. Her greatest passion was the same as mine: hunting wild birds in wild places. Abby had a great life. Nothing sad about that. <br />
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<br />Hansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09669633979678360024noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4389091471144278301.post-19707765807576903812017-06-18T06:58:00.001-07:002017-06-18T06:58:05.776-07:00Introducing TobyOutside of a newborn baby, nothing can excite (and disrupt) a household more than a new puppy. After a year of researching Ryman setter breeders, getting on a waiting list and a long flight home to Montana with a whining pup under the seat, Toby the English Setter is home.<br />
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Perhaps more than any other, there is a lot of variation in the breed. Why the classic Ryman variety, vs. the more available Llewellyn and field trial stock? Mostly range and speed. Having had both the 40 pound firecrackers and the 65 pound plodders, I have seen the trend with the small-frame, big-running dogs running faster and wider. My preference is for an all-day hunting dog, not a 60-minute field-trial sprinter. On many blue grouse and chukar climbs, you leave the car at 8AM and return at dark.<br />
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Yes, training can dictate a lot when it comes to range and biddability. But, you can't make a race horse out of a plow horse. Genes are a big part of it. If I only hunted Huns on the prairie, I wouldn't mind a pointing dog 800+ yards and occasionally out of sight. But, when you also hunt ruffed grouse in the Midwest and blue grouse in the high country, a compromise is needed. Since the 80s, my Dad and I have had a variety of setters, mostly good, with a couple of stinkers in the mix. All of this is good bar discussion and comes down to personal preference. Just don't get me started on the Cover Dog moniker. Don't we all want a cover dog?<br />
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Back to Toby. Toby comes from well-planned dog genes, a product of Firelight Setters in Kansas and October setters of Idaho. Both large frame breeders, with beautiful ticking, Toby would look the part in Norman Rockwell or on a George Bird Evens dust jacket. The fact that both breeders are avid bird hunters, on on wild birds, is an added strength. Toby will see his share of sharptail this fall. And, if he develops as expected, he may get a shot at some woodcock and ruffs, Huns, chukar and bobwhite too. <br />
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As far as the household being disrupted, a late September baby boy will need to play nice with the setter pup. To be continued.......<br />
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<br />Hansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09669633979678360024noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4389091471144278301.post-76336398843237722422017-04-13T20:48:00.001-07:002017-04-13T20:48:03.115-07:00The Orange Army<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I received this photo today via a constant contact email from a conservation group. Credit to YoTut/Flicker.</div>
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My first reaction was of concern for the dog. My second thought was if that is the only bird hunting I had left to do, I think I might take up golf instead. </div>
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I understand pheasants that run during late season, corporate outing ass-kissing, hunters paying for success, etc. And, I also know the reaction to my criticism: we need to stick together as hunters. Sure, we do in most cases. I concede this is hunting to most folks and there isn't much unethical about it. Heck, the dog might be having a blast (just as long as it doesn't get blasted). </div>
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I hunted with a party of 12 once in college. We pushed Southwest Minnesota CRP fields with a handful of hyper flushing dogs. I can recall about six or seven shots whenever a bird flushed. When the second hen was shot (they were not legal fare) I sneaked off to my Chevy Blazer and found my own place to hunt. No thanks.</div>
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What say you? Do you enjoy these large groups? Are you a driver or poster? Would you let your dog cast side to side in front of a large group, possibly with strangers? </div>
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To each his own.</div>
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Hansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09669633979678360024noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4389091471144278301.post-27514144684726155652017-02-09T22:17:00.001-08:002017-02-09T22:17:19.343-08:00Still Learning Stuff I find it both fascinating and encouraging that after 32 years or so of trying to get a shotgun pointed at a flying, wild game bird, I am still learning. I am not sure if the chess masters learn every possible move within the game, but they must see a lot of the same tactics over and over. At least the master checkers players, I would assume. Tic-tac-toe for sure. Regardless, if we knew everything that bird hunting had to offer, it wouldn't be as exciting and fresh.<br />
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Now that I am OFFICIALLY done hunting for this season (I considered the final weekend of the Nevada chukar season last weekend), I can reflect on what transpired, both good and bad. I managed to fit in a little bit of work around a lot of driving, many nights in cheap motels and a lot of hours in the Toyota listening to a balance of election bickering, fantasy hockey talk and new Chainsmoker songs on XM radio.<br />
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Woodcock. I finally conceded that the woodcock hunting around our grouse camp in Minnesota will never be as good as it was back in the late 80s and early 90s. Sure, you can time the flights just right for a couple of days and feel like the birds are everywhere. We moved plenty of woodcock in October to feel good about shooting a few that the old dogs had nailed, but it <i>wasn't like the good ol' days</i>, when the season opened on September 1st, the limit was five a day and guys shot a box of shells before noon. No wonder all of our dogs went deaf at age eight. <br />
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Speaking of deafness, it is making an appearance. Oddly enough, it showed up in my Dad at age 70 this fall and by golly, I can tell that my hearing in my barrel-facing left ear, isn't as good as my leeward right ear. Not a major deficit yet and no, I haven't worn ear protection bird hunting. Shooting skeet yes, but not afield. I may regret that, sooner rather than later.<br />
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Wild Bobwhite. Nearly extinct. Release birds only. All on private land. Texas. Habitat loss. <br />
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I have heard the doom and gloom, since I was old enough to read outdoor sporting mags. I had no desire, nor the money to travel to Texas or Georgia and pay to hunt quail. But, with a little guidance from a quail-crazy friend, some good luck, and one foot after the other, I had a great Kansas trip hunting bobs. They were just as dog-friendly as grouse and woodcock up north and it was a special hunt as my two old setters were a perfect team. My only regret is that I didn't take Dad. <br />
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Chukar. My chukar addiction was not quenched this fall, whatsoever. I only had one real chukar trip this fall and I wasted a lot of time in new spots and previously successful areas were not as bountiful as previous years. Other trips were cut short due to winter weather or bad roads. I learned that the season can be pretty much over with one heavy snowfall. I don't mind hunting in snow, but at some point, you start to feel for the birds and the dogs. It has been a long winter in parts of Idaho, Utah and Nevada and I hope spring comes early.<br />
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I learned that not everything from California is bad. California / valley quail are pretty neat birds. It is common in Montana to cringe, whenever the California moniker is used, but when a wintry chukar hunt forced me to veer south into the quail country of southern Idaho, I fell in love with the little bird. In fact, my 13-year old setter Tess, finished her season, and possibly her career, bringing me back a valley quail that I could not find in the brush. I was proud of her and was able to check a bird off the life list.<br />
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As of now, the bird season in Montana is only six and a half months away. I can't wait to enter another season and learn a few more things. <br />
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<br />Hansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09669633979678360024noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4389091471144278301.post-9584943490157022282017-01-02T16:19:00.001-08:002017-01-02T16:19:38.827-08:00Can't Always Tough It OutShould have stayed south. I was into some valley quail in southern Idaho before New Year's. There was some snow on the ground, but not enough to tire the dogs or make the hunting impossible. The motel was cheap, there was plenty of public ground nearby and a relaxing hot springs next door. But, the plan was to work my way north and get into some chukars, a bird that I can't stop thinking about. I knew there was more snow than normal across most of central Idaho, but I was OK with it. When things get tough........<br />
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Long story short, the hiking was miserable. The snow was so deep that Abby walked in my tracks. I had packed snowshoes, but the sidehills were just to steep for them to work. I saw very few birds and those I did spot, simply walked away. Hopeless feeling. <br />
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Regardless, it was good exercise in beautiful country. I am afraid that this is the end of my hunting for the year. I also worry about the long winter ahead for many of the gamebirds in parts of Idaho and Montana. I won't get into the debate of whether or not we should hunt birds when winter is starting to take its toll. That discussion is going on in another blog that many of us follow. All I know is that my hunt today wasn't fair chase. At least not fair to me. The chukars kicked my butt all over the mountain!<br />
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Happy New Year.<br />
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<br />Hansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09669633979678360024noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4389091471144278301.post-55684461161835167372016-12-18T20:03:00.003-08:002016-12-18T20:03:32.204-08:00Old Dogs New BirdsI had been planning a road trip out of Montana the second weekend in December, looking to hunt chukars in either Oregon, Idaho or an even more distant Nevada. As is often the case in December and January, a large winter storm can change plans quickly. But, for us stubborn bird hunters that cannot get enough, I had to find an alternative plan to heading west. Hunting in cold and snow is one thing, but 8 hours on icy roads is another.<br />
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All autumn, I had read good reports of quail in Kansas, Oklahoma and Texas and when I looked at the forecast, the temperatures in Kansas were in the fifties for the duration of my five day weekend. I dreaded a 1,000 mile trip to hunt three days, but once again, I dedicated my mission to two old setters that deserved to hunt somewhere. Mileage, motels, gas and a nonresident license all add up quickly, but no one knows what next season brings for birds, dogs and us. <br />
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I still managed to find icy roads in both Montana and Wyoming, so I didn't complete the journey in one day. But, I knew my aging dogs would limit my time in the field anyway, so getting a later start that first day, wasn't too alarming. With the beauty of technology, I was able to order my Kansas hunting license and download the Walk In hunting atlas to my Iphone, all why driving through busy Denver traffic. (Just kidding. I did it in my motel that evening. But, Denver traffic was horrible. And the Kansas Walk In map app is awesome) By, 9AM Saturday morning, I was hunting in a shirt and without gloves, while my friends back home were shoveling snow off their sidewalks.<br />
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I missed the first chance at quail due to a terrible case of anxiousness. Both barrels were emptied to no avail. But, my entire trip was made just a few minutes later, as I shot a double over my 12 year-old Tess, when the birds decided to sit tight and even fly my direction. I gave Tess a quick hug and took the five-ounce bird from her jaws and had Abby find the second. It was a great start to a trip that was fairly ad-libbed.<br />
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My assumption on how this trip would unfold, would be to find some pheasants scattered amidst the private lands open to public, walk-in hunting. I assumed I would find an occasional covey of bobwhite if I burnt enough boot leather. I was hoping to add the bird to my life list, as I had only shot Mearns quail roughly 15 years earlier. As it turned out, this would end up being a bobwhite hunt first, with pheasants more of a ancillary discovery. <br />
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I shot very poorly, but it was often a case of the yips, combined with the excitement of abundant coveys and good dog work. Once I decided to focus on quail instead of pheasants, I left my 20 gauge in the truck, dumped 28 gauge shells in my vest and shot markedly better with the lighter, faster over-under. <br />
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The hunting and the terrain was very gentlemanly, just like I had read for years in the high-society sporting magazines. While my setters were in good shape for their age, the Kansas terrain benefitted them greatly compared to the chukar hills of the West. I had never imagine that I would be able to cough up enough cash to have a southern plantation hunt, so to find huntable, wild bobwhite populations on land open to the public, was a very pleasant surprise. My truck odometer and bank account both took a serious hit, but the odds of returning to Kansas in the future, when Mother Nature is unfriendly in the northern latitudes, are very good. Long live bobwhite quail. <br />
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<br />Hansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09669633979678360024noreply@blogger.com2