THOUGHTS FROM THE 2015 FALL

Upland bird hunting is letting up a bit in New England and now there's time to share a few thoughts that have been rattling in my mind--

Gun Dogs

Generally speaking, a dog is as trained as you are willing to accept.  

Ripsnorter's Fiona  NA1

I've had excellent, mature examples of handling and dog obedience through my participation in a local chapter of NAVHDA. It's my personal opinion that a well-mannered dog--for which you don't have to make excuses--is simply wonderful.   K-Lee and I are still far from our goal, but we're closer thanks to these men and women who lead by example.  I feel great gratitude for them.   Also, I'm much more interested in a dog's point and retrieve than in a dead bird.  Unfortunately, the retrieve is impossible without the latter.  (When I miss my shot, I try to tell folks I'm practicing "catch and release".)


Woodcock
I love these little buggers!  They come off the ground as fast as a grasshopper and zig-zag through the small trees like alien fighter pilots from a sci-fi movie.  They are just so much fun.  I admire my friends that know how to locate and follow them.




Ruffed Grouse
They are truly the 'wildest' bird that I know.  They run, flush and jinx through the alders and 'popples' like cruise missles flying 'nap-of-the-earth'.  How they keep from smacking into the side of a tree I just don't know.  They are so impressive! 



Pheasant
Upper New England pheasant are "put-and-take" birds.  Much like the general trout fishing here ...they're all stocked.  For several reasons--mostly "predation"--they don't last.  There's just not enough cover and food to keep them over.  What little cover that remains in winter becomes a 'target zone' for animal predators.  

Later in the season, the remaining pheasant have learned how to survive.  To me, this makes for a better hunt.  In my mind, one late season bird is worth three early ones.

Wood ducks
Man, how I wanted to jump some woodies with K-Lee this fall! The few times I found wood ducks, I was carrying 'lead', so I hiked back to the truck to restock my vest and hunt with 'steel' to satisfy the law.  Needless to say, the ducks were one step ahead.  The result?  A noisy, duck-less end.  (Working on that!)

Hunting in the fall sun
Whether feeling the cool dew of seemingly primeval  mornings, sweating through radiant afternoons while striding in golden grassy fields, taking breaks in the shade of a glorious maple--aflame with color, or resting in the soft, fragrant  needles under a pine; hunting on such days was akin to a religious experience.  Birds didn't matter.  Dogs and 'being there' did.

Hunting in the rain
"Purgatory"! 

More later....