Pride

I went out on another hike with Grady yesterday. We went to one of my favorite hunting spots. One of those places accessible only by boots. The mountain seemed a little steeper than it was twenty years ago, but it didn’t disappoint us.

There were plenty of paired chukars that obliged Grady to some good dog work. I was blown away at how large the chukars looked. Especially those that flushed right over the top of me. It was hard to imagine how I could miss so many shots during the hunting season. For a change, I wasn’t trying to capture the moment with a camera or harvesting a bird with my shotgun. I was just enjoying the moment. When those chukars flew past, I could see all the color on them. Those bars are very distinguishable. The sounds the chukars make as they fly might not be quite as stunning as a rooster pheasant, but it still excites the heck out of Grady and me.

And all of the animals we encountered along the climb made me aware that we weren’t alone on the mountain. One coyote scolded us for a long time. We must have been close to a den of pups because she was doing everything she could to get us to follow her away from the area. I’m sure there were more deer around by the amount of tracks and droppings on the trails. But I usually have my eyes glued on the steep hill to see where my next step will be. I use Grady’s eyes to locate animals. He very seldom misses them and will let me know where they are with his stares. Once in a while, he’ll make a low-tailed point to let me know there is something in the brush. Sure enough, I’ll move ahead, and a deer will jump up and trot off.

Although I didn’t see them, I also saw bobcat tracks and a small bear track. I was sure they fared well over the very mild winter we had this year. Buttercups and other flowers are starting to bloom, and Spring has definitely sprung.

Grady loves our every other day outings and is covering a lot of ground. He’s doing almost four times the miles that I do on a trip. I can’t imagine how much elevation gain he gets on one of our trips. He’s down and up so much. And of course, when he goes on point, he’s usually straight down the hill. I have to go down and flush the birds before I can continue going back up. I put the camera away to work on Grady, wanting to help me flush the birds. We’ve got that straightened out. I never get tired of watching him work the mountain.

Just like all the dogs of my past, he has learned how to cover the hill using his nose in search of chukars. At times, it seems like he’ll stop and survey the area before moving on. My favorite thing to see is Grady racing across the side hill and suddenly slamming on the brakes to a point. Frozen on the mountain, he looks like the wind could blow him over. There is no doubt in my mind that I’d better be prepared for action. I make the short or long trek to his point and dream of what might happen if it were hunting season.

Like most of us, there is nothing like watching a dog work. Doing what he or she loves and was bred for. It is what we are on the hill for. But yesterday I realized there is one other aspect of chukar hunting that puts it one step above hunting other upland birds. It’s the climb.

I found myself looking up the hill and remembering how many birds I found in the past on that next ridge. Grady was willing, and so was my heart. My back and legs were a little hesitant, but with a few more stops than in the past, we pushed on. Things hadn’t changed. It seemed like as soon as I would flush a pair of pointed chukars, Grady was off three hundred yards on another point. And usually not at the same elevation as I was. Eventually, we made it to the timberline.

I remembered how I felt in the past when I’d reach that point. Greg Allen, my chukar hunting partner, called it satisfaction. We could have found just as many birds lower on the mountain, but I remember the birds shot way up there tasted a lot better because of the effort it took to get there.

Over five miles and 2000 feet of elevation gain is what I covered, and Grady was just short of twenty miles. I’m guessing we had more than twenty points on the day, which is a lot of excitement on its own. Add to that the accomplishment of just getting to where I was, Grady and I had the perfect day. In other words, the climb was just as important as the limit of birds.

If there was a negative on our jaunt yesterday, it was the dryness. The southern slopes are already dry, and the northern slopes are not much better. We’re in bad need of some good Spring rains. In about a month, all these paired birds will start nesting, and we need as much green up as possible. So keep your fingers crossed.