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The Acreage Trap
Bird Hunters May Find Far Less Huntable Ground This Fall On paper, it can look like a great year to hunt birds in the West. The maps are full of public access. Walk-in programs advertise hundreds of thousands — in some states, millions — of acres of private land open to hunters. CRP still covers…
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Life Lists
Jon and I have been here before—heavy legs and burning lungs. We’ve circled this peak, crossing boulder field after boulder field. It’s taken nearly four hours to complete the circuit around this 12,000-foot Uinta peak. I’m drained. Ida’s standard Lab trot has surrendered to a nearby amble. But then I see it—for most, it would…
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Rio Flufferbunny
It was fall when she came to us on a plane from New Mexico, all legs and ears and sharp puppy teeth. She pointed from the womb — butterflies, song birds, turtles, tufts of grass stirred by a breeze — nothing was safe from…
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Winging It
This upland season is fast approaching. The preparations of the past few seasons manifested in paper and piles. Maps stretched over more maps to cross-check terrain and access. Gear overflowing tables to neutral corners for ranking to make the pack or inevitable re-packs. The planning and gear goat rope is something to while away the…
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Grouse Camp Lore
It’s quiet. Six inches of fresh powder and temperatures in the teens have subdued the forest. I’ve been on the road since 4 a.m. to get a preview of the coming days. It’s a new area and what could be the start of a new tradition. Having hibernated for the five hour commute, the dogs are…
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Lost……again
“I am lost” “Going to shoot. Let me know if you can hear it.” “Hear it?” “I was 50 yards from the truck.” It’s my hunting buddy’s first foray into the realm of the Ruffed Grouse. We’ve hunted a few days now, but this is the first overcast day in an area previously unexplored. It…
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Picking Up Right Where We Fell Apart
Bird seasons come and go. Most of the time I try to not think about the start and end dates because there’s always a half-year where we won’t be chasing birds. To focus on the beginning and end always seems like so much longing, instead of just embracing the moments afield that we actually get….
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The Cure for the Ailing Birdhunt
It took a decade of brush busting, sprinting after wingless phantom pheasants, whiffing on bunny shots, losing keys and warping dogs — but a buddy and I finally discovered the remedy for the bird hunt that has jumped the tracks. Spiced ham. That gelatinous, pulverized, sodium infused and form fitted rectagonal mass packaged in the convenient…
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Climbing for the Birds
Maurice and I punched through the ridge line at 10,500 feet mid-morning with Wyatt the black lab in tow. The massive boulder fields and talus slopes are tough terrain for a bird dog. We climbed over a small crease and arrived at a rare sight, a piece of flat ground extending 50 yards to the…
