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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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Escape Velocity
I’ve been feeling uneasy. It’s been this way, more or less, for over a year. I went into last upland season feeling rushed and underprepared. It didn’t really pan out that way; things went fine. But in my head I always felt a half-click off. I’ve been battling, trying to get through it, pin point…
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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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The Journey
I learned to bird hunt with friends — we weren’t reading about it or seeing it online or in social posts because there wasn’t an internet. We didn’t have a script or playbook from the past. We would unleash half-wild dogs into the field and walk our legs off in pursuit. Actually, we probably did…
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End of Season Omens
Rio the setter suddenly hits the brakes, sliding to a stop on a steep grade beside an old logging road being reclaimed by the forest. We’ve spent a couple days wandering the hills of West Virginia searching for late-season Ruffed Grouse with no luck. I can tell by her stance, even on this awkward angle,…
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Highlights From the 2012 Bird Hunting Season
It seems like eons ago when we were climbing to 12,000 feet in the Ruby Mountains in pursuit of Snowcock. But it was just a short six months since we set off to start the 2012 bird hunting season. Now that wild bird hunting in the lower 48 has ended I sit here reflecting on…
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On the Eve
I’ve been accused in the past of trying to make every bird hunt a “religious experience.” I laughed it off when first cast. But the truth is, that jab has stuck with me. I’m unsure why. But in the interest of being utilitarian and simple: I set up camp at the base of some mountains…
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Believers
I can feel him in the distance looking down on us. The Deacon of this mountain is unimpressed with our pace and route. Yet this goat still watches as one worn little setter leads us up a chute 1,500 feet below the pulpit he’s chosen. Every now and then I glance skyward to see…
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The Last Bird: Living in the Upland Death Spiral
Most of the upland birds around here vanished during the Storm of the Century that dumped 30 inches of snow atop a base of frozen rain accompanied by -60° wind chill. Though game birds were on a downward trajectory long before that fateful day, the 43 years since have shown there’s little hope for any…
