How it really is

After the "big guys" last blog, I decided I'd better chime in and let you know how it really is. Sure, I broke point and moved in behind him. I knew he hadn't a clue of where the birds were and I had to reinforce his confidence so I was just reestablishing my point and staying clear of the muzzle blast.

After two years being in the truck with him and his other human partners and listening to their stories, I feel it my duty to report to the rest of you chukar dogs the real story. Most of you can probably relate. First of all, the "big guy" is always posting pictures of me and telling some way out story about how tough it was. He mentions how far away or how steep it was for him or other similar complaints to make you feel how hard he worked to get there. Well let me say, this is poppy cock. I go about four times as far as him on an average hunt and I only have two times the legs.

The only reason I'm in all of the pictures is because "selfies" don't show very much when we're on the mountain. I must admit that I am a good looking son of a bitch.

I use those words in a different way than the "big guy" does. The bitches name is Penny, my mom.


 I wish you could hear a lot of the conversations that I have to listen to on our rides home with other hunters. If only I could speak the human language. The "big guy" talks about the tough shots he makes quite often. If he is such a good shot, how come he's always cussing after most shots? I've heard more lame excuses over the past two years for missing shots at chukars than most dogs hear in a life time. Yesterday, it was the wind. Sure, it was a little gusty, but most guys could shoot better in a hurricane. How many different tings can get into a guys eyes? I've heard them all, dirt grass, the sun and even tears, which is the one that I believe the most. He's probably crying because he thinks he's going to miss the shot. Thanks to a wide spread of shot the bird sometimes flies into his pattern.

Sometimes I wonder how much fun the "big guy" is really having. Last week he kept complaining about the fog and inversion. Inversion must be some kind of large device that keeps the fog from moving out because he was constantly speaking about the DAM fog. The fog doesn't bother me at all. I still find the birds. He just uses the fog as another excuse for missing. "I had to rush my shot", he'd say, or "they disappeared as I fired".

And then, there is the snow. Sometimes you'd think it was the kiss of death for the "big guy" the way he complains about going up a hill in it. As with any other type of weather, I don't have any problem getting to the birds and holding them but he seems to think it really hinders his movements and ability to shoot. He says he can't get his footing. I can almost believe that excuse, the way he is always stumbling around on the mountain. I remember this point. We both could see the bird hunkering down and he used the icy snow for an excuse for missing the bird.

At least he didn't try shooting him on the snow and spared my ears. I do have to admit, it was quite comical, watching him sitting in the snow cussing his gun as if it had anything to do with it. The "big guy" did get a chukar on that crusty snow day. I remember it well. He whined like a baby when I dropped the bird at is feet and it slid down the hill about thirty yards before stopping. He wanted me to get it again. If they're alive and flopping down the hill, I'll get them again but when I drop them at his feet and he can't bend over enough to pick the bird up than it is his problem. He needs to work some of that belly off in order to bend better.

I think the mud was his biggest obstacle. I've never heard so many different adjectives for mud. Most of them I better not repeat. My pads get totally covered by what he calls slop but you don't find me complaining like he does when he slips and gets some on his gloves. If he goes far enough down to get some muck on his gun you'd think it was the end of the world. The echoes of his not to kind words echo off the canyon rims for miles.


I've heard a lot of his excuses for missing but you're not going to believe this one. "I pulled up and missed on purpose" he said at one shot. The birds were too close and he didn't want to hit more than one. Strange, how just one week earlier he dropped two with one shot and said he did it on purpose. Go figure that one out.
 

As I recall, it isn't just inclement weather that brings the worst out in the "big guy". He did a lot of whining during the fair weather also. I remember him falling on a flat trail and cussing his new knee for not bending enough. I think there was a line of ants crossing the trail that tripped him. How high do you have to lift your leg to clear an ant? Maybe I'm being a little hard on the guy. Maybe those with only two legs should stay on the flat ground. I really wish there was something I could do for him because with all of his short comings he does get me out a lot. That's the main reason I don't cover my eyes when I'm listening to his stories from the back seat of the truck as we return from hunting trips. Humans will believe anything.

I have to admit that I couldn't have asked for a better companion than the "big guy" because he takes so much time to get me out. But I sure wish he was a little younger. You should hear all of the complaining Barb and I have to listen to when we get home. This hurts and that hurts. Would you rub some heat ointment on my back. God bless Barb for getting him back on the mountain with me. You chukar hunting dogs out there, be prepared. The complaining gets worse with age. Oh, they're still having fun, they just have a hard time showing it. In fact I think complaining becomes more fun as they get older. At least he's getting better at it.

So in the future, when you see a picture like this,

understand that there are just as many days like this picture that I took of the "big guy", with plenty of excuses for the poor showing.

Notice the number of shells spent and the number of birds. I pointed a bird for each shell shot and also retrieved each of the birds he shot. Had we been riding with someone else that day, I  could imagine the story I'd have to listen to. It would go something like this. Didn't see many birds today and got the only one Jake pointed. As usual I would have just kept my eyes shut, pretending I was sleeping. That's just a part of being a good hunting partner.


So, whenever you see the pictures with all the birds that we got for that day, there is probably two days that would look like that last picture that are not mentioned. From a canines view, that's how it really is.

Situation

I had a chance to get out yesterday. With this inversion type fog every morning, I've got turned back twice. One because of an accident along the freeway and the second because I couldn't see thirty yards away and the fog seemed to follow me as I walked up the hill. So Jake and I were thrilled to have a day out without fog.

The day started out pretty slow and Jake busting a few birds. As we got further up the hill I could see why Jake was not able to hold down the birds. A dozen or so chukars were sprinting up the open slope towards the ridge top. They were very visible do to the matted down grass. As the first couple of birds crested the ridge they flew, witch was too much for Jake to handle and he sprinted up the hill and flushed the remaining birds. I suppose with a trial dog you have to stop that kind of behavior but for me and my hunting companion I have to excuse it, We weren't going to get close to those birds anyway so I figure no harm, no foul.

We had this kind of activity happen off and on throughout the day. Yes, Jake got a few birds to hold in the heavier brush, but most of those birds were runners also. Just like pheasants, they learn to run for survival. I remember thinking to myself, "we hunters are pretty arrogant to think we are going to make much of a dent in next years population by hunting these late season birds".

Anyhow, here is the situation that comes out quite often for chukar hunters. Jake had just locked on point about 100 yards down the hill. There was a pile of rocks in the area where he was on point, and although I couldn't see him I assumed that was where he was. I slowly walked towards where he was and found him rock solid on point.

There was no question that the birds were there. After snapping the picture, I surveyed the situation and couldn't find a way of approaching the birds for a shot. I finally decided to drop down below the rocks and come in on Jake from below. It took about 3 minutes to get around the rocks. I wondered what Jake would do once I walked up on his point and than walked away, out of sight. As I got into position to where I could get a decent shot a bird flushed further down the hill and out of range. Within seconds, Jake was behind me and immediately came to point. Yes, he honors me when I assume the intense hunter position. My next step flushed a nice covey of birds and I shot a rare double. The next time I saw Jake he was retrieving one of the birds.

My question is, "what would most dog trainers do in this situation?" Are you reinforcing your dog to break point by letting him relocate after he heard the first bird flush? The reason I ask, is because this morning while visiting with a dog trainer and hunter, this chukar hunter (who breeds some pretty great dogs) said I'm teaching my dogs bad habits and that is why Jake chased the birds he saw running up the hill and taking off.

I guess I'm the type of guy who will accept mediocre performance from my canine partner in order for us to BOTH enjoy the experience to it's fullest.

Happy birthday Jake

Last night Jake informed me that he would like to go on a chukar hunt to celebrate his 2nd birthday today. So, this morning we got up and took the long drive west hoping to find some blue skies. When we got to our destination we had a mixture of everything. Some sun, fog, inversion and a few snow flakes.

I had hoped to find some birds on the lower burnt off slopes but Jake couldn't seem to locate any. I had to agree because I didn't see a dropping anywhere. Two months ago I was on these same slopes and found a fair number of birds so I was hopeful that Jake would keep on doing his thing until he found birds. As usual, when Jake finally found chukars, I was baffled as to why they were where they were. All the green up on the bare slopes and not a bird. As soon as we got to the snow, 1700 feet higher than where we started, Jake locked on his first point.

Notice the slope behind Jake. The slope we had just come up was burnt off similar to that but with no birds. In places the snow was crusted enough that I didn't even break through. What were the birds doing up there? I decided not to question them and follow Jake from point to point.

Although Jake had some fantastic points I have to confess that he bumped more bird today than any other day this year. It could be that they were just so visible up in the crusted snow or possibly just forming some bad habits as most dogs do towards the end of the season. I think they do that just so we still take them out to the chukar mountains after the season is over for training.

Some of the birds flushed wild due to the crunching snow as I approached but for every wild flush or Jake bumping birds we had a good point with birds that would hold for my approach.

There were a few times when the birds were a hundred yards down the slope from where Jake was pointing. We had a pretty good wind coming up the slope. But he held point like a mature dog as I edged down the steep slope trying hard not to fall on my butt. Every twenty yards or so he would relocate with me but never go ahead. With our 50 hunts this year he has really matured.

His only downfall is that he usually drops the bird before I get my hand on it. I can live with that knowing how hard he has worked just to get the bird back to my feet.

What a great day for a dog that just turned two. He screws up once in a while but not as often as I do with the gun. The more I hunt with him the more I realize how hard he tries to please me. He is my hunting partner and deserves the best, so tonight I think we'll share a chukar dinner to celebrate his birthday.

Birds eye view

Last week, before the fog came, Jake and I had one of those fantastic days together. It was a blue bird day and the chukars were cooperating real well. I got lot's of camera shot's of Jake in action and got a lot of shooting action in the process.

For most of Jake's 24 miles of hunting we were accompanied by what I think was a prairie falcon. The falcon traveled everywhere that Jake went and once in a while would take a break on a rock outcropping or sage. I found myself wishing I could watch Jake through the birds eyes. We all get to see our dog's on point over the birds

and watch great retrieves when we finally shoot straight,

but we seldom get to see the work and action of the dog before the point. Chukar hunting is usually on steep terrain with lot's of pockets to help hide dogs as they pursue their prey. In my case, Jake is usually out between 100 and 300 yards doing his thing. At least 75 % of the time he is out of my sight when I realize he is on point and I head toward him. 

Watching the prairie falcon following Jake in hopes of takimg a flushed bird from the air was impressive. I could only imagine what it was seeing. The beauty of a dog racing through the rocky terrain without breaking stride and changing directions as quickly as the wind changes. The falcon could see which way the wind was blowing by the way Jake would top over a ridge and then head into a draw with his head high. There were times when the bird would circle upwards as if to getting ready to dive and I had to wonder if Jake had slowed his pace smelling the scent of chukars. Twice the falcon landed high on a brush and shortly after my Astro let me know Jake was on point.

Through the falcon's eyes I could possibly interpret Jake's actions. How one moment he's headed at mach 1 to my left and seconds later on point to my right. I would love to see what actually happens when Jake tops over the ridge 200 yards away and locks up shortly there after. Those times when a dog follows the scent of running birds straight up the hill and there is a wild flush instead of a point, would be confirmed as to what really happened from the falcon's eyes.

We've all seen our dog's make great retrieves but imagine what the falcon's see. They could probably produce a funniest video of dog's doing accidental flips on the steep hill while trying to catch a chukar that suddenly turns directions.

A birds eye view would also be educational for the hunter. How often have we wondered how our dog's missed that covey of birds? A birds eye view also gets the falcon a meal or two. It didn't happen on this day, but I have seen hawks eating a dead bird I have shot but the dog failed to find. I have also used the birds eye view to help me find birds. Sometimes when you see a hawk circling and occasionally making a dive towards a hill, it pays off to head in that direction and find the birds that wouldn't flush for the hawk but held tight for the dog in spite of the hawk.

Like I said, Jake and I had a great day

but it would have been that much better to see what the falcon saw.

The next day the fog rolled in. It has stuck around for four days now and neither the predatory birds or I are getting to see much. Jake's nose is still telling me they are out there, but even with his point I only get to hear the flush.

Hurry up, blue bird days, and return to our skies. There are only twenty days left in the season.

Outdooor adventures

I returned home from my chukar hunt today and found a catalog from Cabela's in the mail. It was their 2015 edition of Outdoor Adventures in which they show legendary worldwide hunting and fishing trips. I must admit, I used to dream about those trips, especially a Brown bear hunt with a bow. But as I aged, my bank account forgot to keep up, and The modest amount of around 20,000 dollars isn't what this retired hunter can afford.

For curiosity, I checked out the bird hunts and found that most hunts were about 1800 dollars for three day hunts. Probably not too expensive for most, especially since you are usually guaranteed birds. But, after doing the math, I figured out how great we have it living in western Idaho or eastern Oregon when it comes to upland birds, especially huns/ chukars/quail.

Over the years I've done kept records of many different aspects of chukar hunting. A couple of years I've kept records of cost per bird. Those of you who try keeping your wife away from the mall might be better off to not keep those records around. Even at that, I'm sure my cost per bird is way lower than the cost after traveling east to some of these legendary locations.

As I said, most of those hunts are for three days. If you buy both a resident Idaho and non resident Oregon hunting license you have spent about $200.00 for 4 and a half months of hunting. Even if you only make it out on weekends and holidays you have about 40 days to hunt. Cut that in half for family functions, etc. and you still have twenty days. The lodging is a wash. The $1800.00 you spend to go east includes your lodging but your lodging is your home when you hunt Idaho/Oregon borders.

Everywhere I hunt is within 150 miles from my home, but that still takes fuel to get there. I get a lot of trips each year and most of them are solo and I spend somewhere around $2000.00 in diesel per year. So now I have $2000.00 in fuel and $200.00 in license for over 50 days of hunting in my case. Compare that to $1800.00 for a three day hunt which does not include fuel or plane fare getting there and it makes it pretty clear why this retired boy chooses my own legendary hunt right here in the west.

We have literally thousands of miles to hunt so we can hunt with a group or venture out on a one on one hunt with our chosen guide.

Most everything else becomes a wash. You already have your gun, shells, and other hunting gear. You choose your own guide. You don't have to tip the guide on our hunts either. He's just happy to guide you for a drink every now and than and maybe a treat or two.

The only thing the guide requires is that you don't try and second guess him and follow instructions if you want to be successful. He's even happy to carry your trophy for you.

There are no trophy fees on our hunts. After you retrieve your trophy from the guide it will be your responsibility to care for the animal. Even larger trophies like this one.

The meat, when prepared right, will be a testament to a great hunt.

Let's say that you might average 10 points a day on your eastern extravaganza and only five per day on a western chukar hunt. You have a budget of $2500.00 for bird hunting expenses. Which trip is the best bang for your buck. I know which one I will choose for the next twenty years. The same trip I've been on for the past thirty.

Getting schooled by the chukars

Because of the flu and the cold snap that hit over the last week, I've been stuck sitting by the fire for the last week. Between Jake lying in the bedroom watching quail run up and down the driveway and Conner calling wondering when we were going out again, I was manipulated into giving it a go today.

Once Conner and I parted ways from Greg, Conner and Jake's enthusiasm carried us uphill through the snow. As we hiked through the four inches of snow up the draw, Jake twice followed his nose up the burnt off slope following the scent of running birds. Both times the birds flushed, with a little help from Jake. He was about 300 yards up the hill and there was no way on this day I was going to get up there anyway. After gaining 1000 feet in elevation, we cut back on the hillside and worked our way up to the ridge. After we got to the top I was disappointed to find the snow was even deeper on top with no bird sign. I knew the south side of the ridge should be burnt off so we headed south. As we reached the burnt off slope, my Astro suddenly let me be aware that Jake was on point 286 yards to the north. When we caught up to Jake on point I remarked that I didn't really want to go down there even though I knew we had to. Conner suggested he go down while I wait up high and I agreed. What a great kid.

I knew the birds would probably flush across the canyon and light on that steep ridge you can see behind Conner, and they did at Conner's flush and shot. Luckily a few of them broke left and flew around the ridge we were on. The snow was a little deeper where they went but at least we could walk there.

Although struggling for footing, we got in on a few points and somehow every once in a while a bird would even fall at the sound of our firing.

We were lucky enough to catch a few birds in the deep stuff that would stay long enough for some shooting but the numbers were fewer and they all retreated to the south side at flight.

We didn't know it at the time, but any of these easier to get to points were going to be our only equalizers for the day. We should have taken more advantage of some of these easier shots because the chukars were about to give us some valuable lessons on side hilling. 

We were on the trail of several covey of chukar's that were about to humiliate us. Yes, there would be less snow but the ground would also be more frozen and steeper.

For the next two hours we chased the birds around these frozen slopes. Jake had several points  and even the ones that were on the same level as Conner and I were almost impossible to get to without falling several times. Although we got to shoot some lead at the birds, the only damage done was to our guns and bodies. We ended up with 8 solid points across this slope without knocking a feather from a bird. We could see birds running up the slopes, but we couldn't find a foot hold. Luckily cheat and bunch grass has deep roots so we had something to cling to. I don't know how many times we fell on that mountain but I know we were both celebrating when we finally came across a game trail heading down. Of course the chukars kept  taunting us to return up the hill but, the only one willing was Jake. It took a while for him to retreat with Conner and I but he finally did.

After we reached the warmth of the truck and waited for Greg, Conner and I watched the chukars  running across the slopes through the binoculars.  Conner was in agreement with me that there was no way that hunters would ever do much damage to the chukar populations. It takes maybe three seconds to be out of range and another ten to be on another mountain. 

I believe in fair play, so I'll wait until we have another warm spell that might at least make some of the mountain hospitable. Chukars don't know how to play fair and are only concerned with survival. You'd think after chasing these birds many hundreds of times I'd have it figured out, but they seem to give me more education each time I pursue them. Well, I'll see how many more times I can be schooled before January 31.

Continued saga: Conner's quest for a chukar

Let me preface this blog by saying, "Conner's an animal". Today we covered 8 miles and just over 2000 feet in elevation gain. Jake did a little over four times that distance and I wouldn't even try to guess his elevation gain. Conner only complained about his feet being a little sore while my whole body ached and Jake slept all the way home.

Like all my chukar hunts, we walked a couple of miles without any excitement at all, and then Jake locked up high on the hill we had just come down. I let Conner head up to the point while I took pictures. Truth is, I wasn't ready to go back up there and he was.

I followed the best I could hoping to get that perfect shot of Conner's first bird,

but three huns busted before I could get the camera in the action. Conner's gun wasn't as slow as my camera and he got a couple of shots off before they got out of range of his 20 gauge. He was excited to finally get a little shooting.

The next three hours provided lot's of points and chukar action. Jake had led us into the honey hole for alectoris chukar and he was determined that he would get Conner a bird today. He had several great points and even one of Conner's shots knocked feathers from a chukar which refused to show any sign of injury and flew off with the others.

About 150 birds into the hunt and I can't say how many shots, Conner was getting a little disgusted with his shooting. I've shot hundreds of rounds with him, so I knew it was just a matter of time and encouraged him on. Jake finally locked up in a flatter area and I really thought it was about to happen. As Conner moved in on Jake's point, Jake's eyes kept shifting from Conner to a spot on the ground as if to say "he's right there".

Suddenly a chukar took off running up the slope. Conner shouldered his Remington and, in Conner style, waited until the bird took flight and fired twice. The bird never flinched and kept flying as a second bird took off in the other direction. Conner shot his third shell at the fleeting bird with the same result. They were the kind of shots I've seen him make on quail many times and he looked at me and said "those were easy shots, I should have gotten at least the first one".

We were all getting pretty tired by this point and I could feel Conner's dejection, but that wasn't slowing Jake down. He soon found another covey.

I was trying to get both Conner and Jake in the same picture but Jake didn't budge as Conner moved about twenty yards below him. Suddenly the birds busted from the slight cover they had and Conner shot. I pointed the camera at Conner expecting a second shot but instead got a loud exciting "I got him shout".

Like a pro, he directed Jake to the dead bird and Jake was proud to bring him the trophy.

Proudly they display a great trophy. A bird that was definitely earned.

We still had a ways to go back to the truck and I pleaded with Conner to take the easy route back to the truck. He agreed and we rode his excitement back down the ridge the truck was parked on. What a way to start the Christmas week.

Merry Christmas everyone,

Barb, Jake and Larry

What makes a great hunt

Today I went on one of those hunts that just beats you up. The hill is steep and there are no flat spots. It's a place that usually holds good bird numbers because most people won't hunt it more than once a year. This was my one time for this year. A few years back, I shot 8 for 8 on this hill and regard that day as one of my best shooting days ever. Usually I come back with no shells and very few birds in the vest.

Today my shooting wasn't much better than the normal day up on that mountain, but I felt fortunate to get plenty of shooting without falling on my butt, which is common on those steep slopes. Jake wasn't real impressive at first either. He figured the birds were up high in the fog and headed right up into it. A couple times I thought I heard birds flying but then dismissed those thoughts, knowing Jake wouldn't do that. I must have been hearing things.

I took the trail up the draw as far as possible before heading up on the steep stuff and into the fog. I could see blue sky up high and was hoping to get above it.

That never happened. The fog moved up with us and before long Jake had a point.

There were a dozen or so chukars that took off but were into the fog before I could even shoulder my shotgun. It was looking to be one of those days. We kept side hilling around the draw and every once in a while hit an open pocket from the fog. Twice it opened up far enough that I could see Jake with his nose to the ground, scenting running chukars and soon chasing them into flight. Another time, Jake pointed until I got close to him and then he broke and chased what sounded to be a large covey into the fog. I was wondering why dogs can do everything so well one time and then the next time look like a totally different dog. I then remembered asking myself the same question about my last seven dogs.

After a couple of hours the fog gathered and moved up the hill, forming an overcast sky. Jake and I had done a few things right and had some birds in the vest. We decided to hunt back towards the truck and dropped about 500 feet in elevation.

 I've always wanted to get a picture of my dog on point with the birds in flight. Karl Dehart has done it as well as Leslie McMichaels and have some great photos. Maybe they're not as blind as I am. My camera doesn't have a view finder so I have to look at the back of my phone size camera and hope it's aiming in the right way. I've got several great pictures of sage, cheat grass and blue sky but never of my dog and the bird taking off. Until today. Although this bird isn't actually in flight yet, it's on the run way. 

I pointed the camera at Jake on point and when I saw movement I snapped. The bird must have been tucked in that sage. A second bird waited until I put my camera away before exiting and chuckled as he flew off.

We had a few more encounters while heading back. The last one was about a half mile from the truck and a couple hundred yards above the road. Jake was on point looking over a pretty steep part of the hill. My ankles were pretty sore by this time and getting below him took me a while. As I moved below him, the birds flushed. One bird flew to my right and the rest to the left. I hit the bird to my right while Jake was off to watch the others fly away. It looked like the bird fell over the steep bank of the road and I didn't want Jake to go down there and not be able to get back up, so I didn't call "dead bird" and headed back to the truck.

We drove back to the spot where I thought the bird went down and I let Jake out. Even without a shot, Jake trusted me and started searching dead. I pointed up the steep slope and he picked his way up to the sage that I thought the bird had hit and got a nose full. Several times he would disappear and then show up again looking for guidance from me. After several tries I finally walked back towards the truck and called him back. He went back to the brush where the bird had fallen and started side hilling the steep slope with his nose down until he got to the road where the chukar was hiding next to a sign post.

It doesn't take much to make a great hunt. 

Chukar's beware. There's new blood coming to your hill.

I'd be a liar to say that getting chukars is not the reason I chukar hunt. Although, like many others, I wouldn't go if it weren't for the dog.  But, I don't go only for the dog. I love to complete the process, which is dog points, I shoot and dog retrieves. I usually can't get enough of that combination to keep me from going out again as soon as possible. I love it. Well, I didn't think this love for chukar hunting was catching.

My grandson, Conner has been bugging me to shoot a chukar. He's shot a few huns and a limit of quail behind my dogs, but hasn't really been big enough to negotiate the steep hills with a shotgun until this year. He's been on a few chukar hunts with me in the past, but never packing. So, early this morning I put my ankle brace on, tightened my boot up extra snug and headed up to the mountain with Conner and Greg.

As usual, Greg and I headed off our different ways in search of chukar. I'd like to say I was towing Conner behind me, but I think it was more the other way around. Jake covering the mountain with Conner in pursuit and me behind. I'd like to blame my ankle but that would be a lie. Even healthy, I would have had a hard time keeping up with this 12 year old. You would think without seeing any sign of birds in the first hour he would be bored, but not this kid. We just kept hiking up the steep slopes following Jake. We finally got to the top of the first ridge and I was jacked to show Conner all the fresh sign and mentioned that Jake should be finding some birds now. Then, I looked at my gps and saw that Jake was 450 yards away. Jake never ranges that far out and I assumed that he must have already found these birds and gave chase. I explained to Conner what I figured happened and Jake shortly joined us in the hunt.

We had gone about as high as I wanted to get and Conner showed no sign of tiring so I figured we would follow that ridge into the wind. It wasn't long and Jake was on point about 100 yards below us. We moved down the mountain and I instructed Conner how to approach Jake and that I would hang back and watch the action. He did everything perfect and got about ten yards in front of Jake before the birds busted. Conner got his first taste of steep hill shooting as he fired twice and than watched Jake searching for a bird that wasn't there.

As I walked down to him, he was a little bummed that he had missed. I tried to ease his mind by mentioning when there's a large covey of birds, sometimes it's hard to pick out a single bird and you end up shooting at the covey. I asked if he was ready for a break and he was having none of it. Jake was already in search of the next covey and we soon found him on point. He was on the next ridge and pointing into the wind. I instructed Conner on how I would make the approach and hung back to watch.

Once again,a veteran chukar hunter couldn't have done it any better. Except for the shooting. Once again I saw Conner disappear in front of Jake and heard two shots. I hustled over hoping to find Jake retrieving a bird, but found a young man with his head low. He's already done a lot of shotgunning and couldn't understand missing these shots. We laughed about it and then heard a bird take off from below and saw Jake standing there looking at us, wondering what was so funny.

Jake turned to head out and another chukar busted from the brush fifty yards down hill. Within seconds his radar had another bird and Conner was heading down to help him out.

The bird flushed before Conner could get to Jake, but not without a couple of shots fired at it. Conner looked up at me but before he had time to show his frustration Jake was on another point below him. I told him to get down there and I'd catch up.

I took my time getting down to him snapping a few pictures along the way. Conner got in front of Jake and the birds started flushing. Somehow they were right in the middle of the birds and they were flushing a few at a time. Even the best chukar hunter has a hard time concentrating on a chukar when another is taking off closer. By the time this volley was over, Conner had fired five times. In Oregon, you can only have three shells in your gun and he had enough time to reload in between shots. After the shots he looked down the hill exclaiming "what's wrong with me?".

Several more shots were fired off Jake's points in the following hours without a retrieve until Jake's last point. He was a little over 100 yards away and I decided to take a short break with Conner and possibly do a better job at guiding him in on this one. I directed him to the left of Jake and I would come in below him. I told him to slow his shot down a little and let the bird get out where his pattern might be better. He is very quick with a shotgun. I snapped a few shots as he approached the point and then moved into position.

A single chukar flushed and Conner did just what I said; took his time on the shot. As the bird kept flying I snapped off a shot and watched the bird sail off into the distance. "Looks like it wasn't our day", I exclaimed.

We hit the jeep trail and headed back to where Greg had parked the truck. In four hours we had logged 6 miles and Jake 24. We had climbed over 2200 vertical feet and I was dead tired. Jake was content to walk the road back to the truck instead of hunt. I couldn't wait to get my boot off and all Conner could talk about was when are we going again. I was thankful that he has to go to school tomorrow. Give this kid a few more years and his own pointing dog and look out chukars.

When I started this piece, I mentioned how much I like getting chukars. Maybe that's not always true. Today I fired one shot and never enjoyed a hunt more. Watching my two best hunting partners hunt together was all the reward I needed.

Chukar hunting. Every trip is an adventure

It might seem like all my trips are successful. Believe me, they aren't. It's just more fun to write about the successful ones or the ones that have some type of different adventure than the usual hunts. Every chukar hunt seems to have excitement in one form or another. Sometimes good and sometimes not so good. Yesterdays hunt had a little of both.

The day started as usual when I hunt with Greg Allen. We meet at the usual truck stop and load our gear into one of our trucks. Of course the dogs are situated in the back seat nice and comfortable. As we drive, we decide where we are going to hunt for the day and discuss the happenings of the week. Once at our location Greg comments about the light and that the next trip we're going to have to either get started a little later or start carrying flashlights. It was barely shooting light and seemed more like duck hunting rather than chukar hunting.

With three GSP's running circles, trying to get us to hurry, we made our decisions of where we're going to hunt for the day and head out in our separate ways. We've hunted together for somewhere around thirty years and know that we'll rendezvous at the truck somewhere between four and six hours later.

Weather conditions were pretty good as we departed, 20 degrees and a slight breeze with clear skies. The slight breeze lasted about a half an hour before it turned into a twenty mile an hour or more wind. The back of my neck or my cheeks were feeling like ice, depending on which way I was walking as I headed up the ridge. If this area was like most of the other areas I've hunted this year the birds would be high. I was right and after getting up about 2000 vertical feet, Jake started running into birds. The problem was, as soon as Jake would hit scent and point, the birds were diving off the top and sailing with the wind. In my experience, the wind seems to make chukars more flighty. I saw four covey's and I'm sure Jake saw more in the first two  and a half hours before the wind died down. I hadn't even got to shoulder my gun and was thinking this was going to be one of those days my vest would stay empty.

After the wind died, things suddenly turned in my favor. I had no idea how Greg was doing, because we were probably two or three miles apart by now with a couple of ridges between us. Once, I heard a far off shot and hoped it was Greg. Jake started nailing the covey's.  We were working great together and I shot unusually well, hitting my first five birds. I missed the sixth shot but was back on for the next two birds. What a great day I was having.

With my vest heavier than usual, we hunted our way back down towards the truck. Jake locked up again about 100 yards straight down the steep slope and I was heading down to him when it happened. Bam, I was flopping down the slope. I don't know if it was one of the thousands of rocks on the slope or a hole but my ankle gave out and I was down. I didn't think it was possible to twist an ankle with the stiffness of the boots I wear, but found I was wrong. I can't imagine what Jake was thinking as he was on point and I was wallowing around cussing. I finally got it together and called him off point. There was no way I was going to be able to get down to him on my ankle. Reluctantly he came back up the hill as about twenty birds flew off one or two at a time as if to taunt me even more.

Jake helped me gather up birds that had fallen from my vest while I gathered up the spent shells, water bottles and candy wrappers that had also scattered on the hill. My ankle was now throbbing and I started looking for the easiest route back to the truck. I was looking for a slope with as few rocks as possible and softer dirt material to help make my descent.

On the way down, Jake locked up again. He was in the right direction so I decided to hobble over to him.

The single held tight and I finished off Jake's limit. Usually I would have been pretty happy. Eight birds with nine shots. What a day it had been, but I just wanted off the hill.

Greg, beat me back to his truck and his girls, Trudi and Katie were basking in the sun. We swapped stories and both had the same results, 8 for 9. This called for a tailgate photo. Getting limits has been rare the last two years, little alone both of us and shooting 16 for 18 just doesn't happen. We bragged on our dogs as Greg figured out how to use the self timer feature on my camera.

The only thing left to do now is figure out how to tape my ankle for support and also fit in my boot. The hill's are calling.