1/15/04

LAST DAY OF THE 2003 SEASON!

Wow, what a way to end the year. We started the day west of Squaw Butte. There was a heavy fog and visibility was down to 30-40 yards in the good spots. Low enough that just when a bird appeared flying through the fog it was gone again before a shot could be taken. But that didn’t stop me from popping off a couple close range tail chasers…it was the last day after all. Now another issue with low visibility and hunting in a new area is getting turned around, mind you I didn’t say lost. My hunting buddy (for Jim’s eyes only…see I said I wouldn’t tell anyone your name) and I walked a mile or two back in the fog, topped the ridge, and started to (so we thought) return toward the trucks. We probably walked another mile when Ji…I mean the guy I was hunting with turned to me and asked, “Do you recognize anything?” Funny, I had been looking around for a little while thinking, “this doesn’t look familiar”… there was this false-confidence in the back of my head, “we are avid outdoorsmen, there’s no way we could be lost!!” Word of advice, whenever your brain tells you that, START WORRYING! Luckily we had our tracks in the snow to follow and got back on the right south-facing slope.

There were birds to be found but Z was in true puppy form and hunting on her own, flushing them out of sight…the next ridge over usually. I’m just glad she didn’t get lost in the fog…I was really concerned about it. Tess was working in close but the chukar were running when not flushed so we had a real difficult time getting close to the birds.

As we backtracked from our “we aren’t lost are we point” both of us were chuckling…what a way to spend the last day of the season, chasing your own tail! We got back to the trucks with no birds in the bag. I had gone out with Patrick the day before and his comment halfway up a deep snow covered hillside was, “Karl, hunting with you can sure turn into an adventure!” I’m not quite sure Ji…my current hunting partner's thoughts were as positive…probably more like, “…that *(&*(^&^%$, this is the last time I hunt with this bonehead!” Just kidding, I think we were both happy to be out there. We stopped at another spot I had hunted before with lots of luck and took a quick run at the south-facing slopes…nothing! I couldn’t believe it. It was loaded with birds just a week ago…and I mean loaded. Sorry buddy…I wish we had filled your game bag for your last hunt of the year!

After Jim left I went to Squaw Butte to try and find some huns. Z had scraped a paw pretty bad and with her limping I decided to leave her in the truck. I walked for another couple hours and didn’t see a bird! But on the drive out I knew where an open slope was relatively close to the road that burned free of snow, had cover, green grass, and rock outcrops. I decided to take Z for her last little jaunt of the year. The hillside was perfect…but not a track, dropping, or feather to be found.

Oh well, back to the truck. I loaded Z up and I was just about to pop the top on a good cold Christmas Ale to toast the end of the season, (a graduation present, thanks Greg), when my phone rang. It was Kevin and Sonny. They were coming out to the area Jim and I just hunted. After a discussion of where else to hunt, toasting the end of the season, and wondering if I had anything left for another hunt…Kevin forced me (yeah right) to meet him and Sonny for another push.

A short nap later and Kevin pulls up and we take Sonny to run the hills…Z was done, at least I felt that way and so did her paws…she was a little upset when she was left in the truck. So back on the same slopes I went with a fresh hunter and dog…I don’t mind saying going up quickly turned my legs to jelly. I was tired.

But it was the last day and since I was out again I was bound and determined to make it until dark. We moved around the same hillside Jim and I worked that morning and there were even more birds this time…shots were fired but when we turned back toward the trucks there were still no birds in the bag. But there were always just enough birds to keep us hiking further. I was laughing at this point…the last day was definitely turning out to teach me the birds will definitely win the day. At one point Sonny gets on this really stylish point (Robin, he looked so beautiful!) and I’m thinking I have my first bird of the day and my first over Sonny to boot! But he breaks just before I get to him and continues to stalk. He works down hill and then gets on a large boulder and just stands there…it looked as if he was just looking ahead when all of a sudden two coveys of chukar get up 50+ yards from where he was standing! Kevin and I realized he was actually on point standing on that rock, downwind of all those birds. FINE BRED HUNTING DOG!

Well, one small covey drops down the hill and into the brushy drainage. Kevin and I race down the hill watching for them to come out or start running up the hill but we don’t see anything. Now we got ‘em…yeah right. We get there…the birds, nowhere…gone, vanished, I guess we should have noticed the space ship that beamed them to safety. We couldn’t believe it. So after working down the drainage for a while (away from the truck again) we turned back toward the exposed south slope. We were about halfway back when on a small outcrop to the north we hear birds laughing, cackling at us…chukarchukarchukarchukar…their call sounds like the are calling their name or laughter…well to me it does. It has on more than one occasion caused me to look longingly up a hillside toward the calls and mumble Cucking Fhukars or wave a bird of my own…always smiling though. But on this particular day, the last day, Kevin and I watched the birds crest the hill and then we just looked at each other smiled, one of us said, “why not, it’s the last day” and we started to jog the 200 yards to the birds. It was a perfect setup. We were 30 yards from the crest, gulping cold air (at least I was) when Sonny flushed the birds. They came right towards us; there was one on my side and one on Kevin’s, sweet passing shots. BOOM BOOM…and then we watched as two birds locked their wings and smoothly glided untouched to the next hillside. At least I had the excuse of getting my gun strap caught up in the trigger! It was great to share this time of frustration with Kevin, chuckling about our afternoon.

For the sixth time today I turned my nose back toward the truck. We had moved back to where Sonny had pointed the two coveys and more birds started chatting about 100 yards straight up the hillside, I see 4 drop over the ridgeline. Now I have to explain that chukar have a stride of about 3-4 inches when they are running, a person should be able to out run them…right? Uphill…not a chance in hell! But again thinking to myself, it is the last day I start running up the hill…50 yards…stop breath breath…run…30 more yards…stop breath breath…10 yards…see the pattern. But I finally make it to where the birds disappeared and the individuals I saw were already 80 yards straight uphill from me (Cucking Fhukars!). I look back down to Kevin who was still standing below where I started from, probably thinking, “God, I hope the old man doesn’t have a heart attack!”

But now I’m at least up high on the hillside so I continue around, side-hilling the slope and finally I see the road. We have about 30 minutes of hunting and 300 yards of hillside left. I’m ahead of Kevin by a bit so I find a nice rock and sit my weary, worn out, tired ass down. I’m not sitting there 10 seconds when birds start talking not 50 yards ahead of me over the next crest. No rest for the wicked. I start to sneak up on them when Sonny shows up. I try to keep him close but he gets ahead and one group of birds flush…bang bang…damn! Nothing! Let me point out the gun I am using has a plug in it so I can only carry 3 shells. So I have one left. I take another couple steps and uphill from me another covey busts out…splitting, some ahead of me, and 4-5 drop around an outcrop behind me, but closer…I swing nearly 180 degrees…boom! With a little jump to my heart I watch a bird crumple and fall. I let out a loud, WhewWhooo! Wait, it’s not over, I move to find the bird and I CAN’T FIND IT!!!! Sonny comes and goes through the area; Kevin comes up to help look and nothing!! Let me recap my day…getting lost in the fog, hiking uphill for 4000 miles (slight exaggeration), shooting at and missing birds all day, running after birds uphill (silly), three dogs with scraped up paws because of crusty snow, and now I’m within sight of the truck, 300 yards, ½ hour of hunting left, 1 shell in my gun and I finally shoot a bird and I can’t find it! We had actually just given up the search. We were standing there talking when Sonny comes back around…and Kevin looks down and shouts, “SONNY FOUND IT!” The last day, one bird…it was a fantastic day, and possibly the most memorable day of the year.