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Grand Slam Highlights

(By Karl DeHart)

 

Shooting Lesson

Mourning Dove – Patrick and I were standing, talking on a knoll overlooking a large bowl that has historically held lots of dove, nothing.  Patrick was asking me about shooting, what I do to try and ensure success.  I was lamenting about keeping your focus, not tracking the bird with the end of your barrel, keeping the gun at ready as much as possible and on and on.  Just guesses really.

 

Not taking my own advice I was standing holding my shotgun by the barrel with my left hand, butt on the ground.  I had honestly just finished with my comments when out of the blue in front of us appeared a dove, like it was part of the shooting lesson.  It was crossing at 20 feet and moving fast to my clear side in the solid breeze, Patrick was on the right and I’m not sure he had seen the dove yet.  Without missing a beat from the end of my comments I shoulder, the bird is almost out of range, I fire, the bird crumples and then I turn to Patrick and say, “Like that!”  We look at each other silently for the moment it takes us to take in what just happened and with a big laugh, a high-five, and shaking our heads we move off to pick up the bird.  It was a classic moment!

First Point

Blue Grouse – Ok, Z has pointed birds before but to the best of my knowledge she hadn’t ever pointed me a blue grouse.  In fact two things had happened in this arena: I had given up the idea that she would and started to wonder if other dogs found blue grouse as difficult.  Upland Idaho member Todd provided information in the forum section about his dog pointing them as well as they did covey birds but also noted another hunter who’s experience mimicked my own.  Well, my story changed this year.  We were working some sagebrush between the pine and fir tree clumps when Z works downhill only 20-30 yards and goes on a half-hearted point.  By this I mean her tail was flagging just a little.  As I moved in to check things she stiffened up her point, which usually means birds.  I have time to start to realize this would be her first point on a blue grouse when the heavy wing-beat of 4 blues fill my ears.  I liken it to a helicopter taking off; thut thut thut thut!  Not only did she point those birds but on her next point I took 2 more birds out of the rise to get my limit for the day and all over Zealots points.

Short Hunts

Spruce Grouse – Justin had given me a heads up about sighting some spruce grouse and it was less than 200 miles to the north of me!  I was off early that next Saturday to take a look.  Once I had reached the general area I picked a logging road to walk.  It was raining mixed with snow and the vegetation was really wet.  That’s why I picked the logging road to hunt, hoping the birds would want to be in the open out of the soaked vegetation.  I was right.  I had not moved away from the truck 50 feet and there standing in front of me was an adult male spruce with his tail-fan spread wide, ruffs up, and dancing for all he was worth for the numerous females around him.  I made the mistake of shooting him after he flushed to a tree limb but you’ll have to read the story about that hunt to find out details…done hunting in less than 5 minutes!

Sage-Grouse – I was standing in the road waiting a few extra minutes to make sure shooting hours had begun.  I had watched some sage-grouse the night before disappear in the direction my nose was pointed.  But at the very last moment and for a reason I can’t explain, I did a sudden about face and headed into the sagebrush behind me.  I hadn’t walked for 10 minutes when Z slams into a sweet point.  It is always so cool to watch your pup working a scent and then suddenly go from 60 to 0 in a flash!  I move in on her point, my heart was pounding, when a group of sage-grouse gets up and I take one.  For the next 5 minutes sage-grouse popped up all around me in small groups of 2-5.  I was able to harvest a second bird and was walking back to the truck in less than 15-20 minutes of leaving the road.

 

Sharp-tailed Grouse – The second day of sharp-tailed grouse hunting, Sunday morning, October 2nd was a drizzly morning. I woke an hour before shooting hours to eat breakfast and slowly get ready for the morning hunt.  But the sound of the rain on the tent kept me snuggled deep in my sleeping bag.  Time to make a decision, my hunting partner on this trip, Glenda, wasn’t having any of the rain and also snuggled deep in the sleeping bag. But being…well…being me…I was up and in the truck at the last moment determined to not let a little water discourage me.  “Good Luck” chased after me from inside the tent.  I actually like to hunt in inclement weather, in my experience two important things happen; most hunters stay home and birds hold tight!  Except high winds, expect sharp-tailed grouse and other prairie birds to be skittish.  I make it to my take off point and am making my way towards some sagebrush about ¾ of a mile away, thinking birds could have roosted under them and may be slow coming out into the rain.  Zealot had yet to leave my side when a sharp-tailed blasts out from a clump of grass within 10 yards.  Bang!  The bird rolls down the hill and the shot flushes another bird about 15 yards out…bang…done!  I watch a few more birds get up after the second shot.  Time in the field was less than 10 minutes.

Other Stories

Quail – one of the best shots of the year, a covey rise with two birds heading in opposite directions one to the right and one to the left.  I swing naturally to the left and fire and then shift my feet to swing to the right and fire…both birds were dead before they hit the ground.

Chukar – I snuck up on a group running uphill away from my dog that was on point at the bottom.  The moral of the story cut ‘em off and then cut ‘em down!  Check out the complete story.

Hungarian Partridge – Z was working some scent ahead of me at 50-70 yards when a lone bird gets up right in front of me.  I shoot and the bird tumbles but wasn’t done.  I swear the bird hit the ground a fluttering mess, it bounced and then instead of a second bounce, like a cat, landed perfectly on its feet already running!  My shot and call of dead bird brought Z racing downhill with the hun running uphill right towards her.  I’m thinking this is great because there is no way I’m going to catch up with the bird.  The bird is running full speed uphill and Z down and they pass within 10 feet of each other and I don’t think either knew the other was there.  We never did find that bird.

 

Ruffed Grouse – I went out with a hunting buddy Greg and sometimes just the typical can be exciting.  This was typical ruffed grouse hunting and the cool part was I was in the zone and made 2 nice shots.  Any grouse hunter knows this routine…you hear the flush, turn towards the sound, visually connect with the flash of a bird between the branches, gun up, fire, you see half the shot pattern rip through the foliage at the same time as the grouse starts its tumble towards the ground.  Dead bird.  If you haven’t already done so you can read the story about the “half of a grouse” that I harvested. The other highlight was just as Greg finished complaining about how poorly he was shooting he took a nice double of quail.

Getting the Grand Slam!

Pheasant – I was down to one bird to finish out my Grand Slam, a wild pheasant.  With the extra couple thousand birds the Fish and Game are stocking this year on WMA’s I wanted to make sure that I only counted a wild bird towards my Grand Slam.  Living near Boise it is difficult finding a public place with wild pheasants.  Private land owners are becoming less willing to let just anyone on their land, and often with bad experiences as justifiable reasons to be cautious.

 

I spent the morning hunting huns with a buddy Carl and his pup Zoe’ and we came out with a few huns and a chukar.  I was shooting terrible!  The last few outings had been just the opposite, even if I say so myself I couldn’t miss but not today.  The huns were thick and Z was pointing but if I didn’t miss, it seemed I only wounded birds.  It is the worst kind of hunting day for me.  I hate not finding downed birds.  And with so many other birds around it was difficult to keep Z focused on finding dead birds.  In fact I was frustrated enough that at noon I was ready to put the shotgun up for the day.  Carl had a frustrating day too but for other reasons and he was done too. 

 

After Carl left I drove to a spot to deer hunt.  I parked the truck and started to walk to a cliff edge to determine where I wanted to park my weary self for a few hours.  I hadn’t made it all the way to the cliff when a few hundred yards down the creek bottom a big bird flushes from a branch on a dead snag into a cottonwood with its leaves still on.  I scanned the trees with my binoculars and there was another large bird still sitting in the snag.  I couldn’t tell what it was; it couldn’t be a blue grouse, not here? 

 

My curiosity was perked enough to walk back to the truck, jump in, drive closer and jump out to start loading a few shells in the shotgun.  I popped the first shell in and then there was the cackle!  Yep, PHEASANTS!  I jumped; I’m not exaggerating, startled and excited at the same time.  GRAND SLAM was screaming in my head.  I quickly finished loading the shotgun, grabbed Zealot keeping her at heel, and then moved swiftly down the hill towards the trees.  I was still out of shotgun range when the birds started bailing out of the cottonwood.  I counted a dozen birds and there were only 3-4 hens.  I had never seen pheasants settled into a tree like this.  Were they spending the hot part of the day in the shaded coolness of the tree or was it a strategy to spot hunters? 

 

I decided to follow the few birds that landed upstream because they hit the ground closer to me and within 15 minutes had missed opportunities at 2 birds without firing but the third bird wasn’t as lucky.  I couldn’t see Z but she was busting some brush when suddenly the noise she was making stopped.  I knew she was on point to my left when the bird busted and gave me a nice crossing shot over some talus, more like a chukar instead of a pheasant.  I finally had my clean shot and tumbled the bird cleanly, yahoo!  After another 2 hours of hunting, more missed chances at pheasants flushing out of tall trees, running into quail and huns, blisters on both big toes, a sore left ankle, and very tired legs from the boulder hopping I was again ready to call it a day.  Needless to say, I’m going back!

 

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