The Hunt

We were walking North-East along the top of the sage covered ridge. Thin patches of snow dotted the ground, and the footing was soft and muddy where there weren't any rocks. The dogs ranged ahead, bounding over the sage brush, and slipping between rocks and boulders. Remington was all business nose to the ground or up in the air struggling to discover that special chukar scent, constantly on the move. I had to watch her carefully, or she would be gone on her own hunt, hopeless without my gun. Her bell tinkled in the crisp mountain air, a beacon to me as I frequently scanned the ground ahead to maintain my footing. Cooper was all business as well. Not as experienced as Remmy, he occasionally got side tracked by gopher scent digging and pawing in some burrow at the base of the brush, But who knows? Perhaps some chukar had roosted there last night, and was just out in front of us scratching up a bird breakfast.

Buck and I had struggled up to the top of the ridge from the valley floor. About 450 feet in elevation gained. My heart was pounding, and I could feel my pulse in my throat, as I gulped air in to feed my laboring legs with oxygen. The good news was we were on top of the ridge with the toughest part of the hike behind us. The bad news was the wind was to our backs so the dogs could only easily smell what they had already moved through. Not a good recipe for sneaking up on some birds. I felt more like I was walking into an ambush!

Behind me to the Southwest the sun shinned brilliantly over the Sierra Valley. It was a warm and beautiful day, in contrast to the previous several weeks of hard cold. Buck and I discussed with wonder how great it was to be out with our dogs, and exercising our bodies with the chance that we might get into some birds. I looked up from placing my boot strategically on a small rock to avoid the soft mud, and noticed Remmy had quartered to my left. Good, I thought perhaps she'll pick up some birds we may have passed as we were walking with the wind. I moved left to follow her as she disappeared behind a brick red boulder, painted with lime green lichen, and chukar white wash. Always a good sign I thought. Buck and I had noticed quite a bit of  chukar "sign" (a euphemism for poop) as we had walked up the ridge earlier. We had also noticed some tracks in the snow, although it was had to tell how fresh they were. There had definitely been birds in this area not to long ago... perhaps they we still here, lurking in the sage brush, waiting and hoping that the dogs would miss their scent, and we would ignorantly walk buy. Honestly, that probably happens more than we like to admit.

Remmy trying to figure it out

As I approached the large rock Remmy had disappeared behind she came into view. She stood stock still, frozen with her held high and pointed back into the wind in the direction we had just come, but further west than our actual track. She did not even glance at me so intent was she on deciphering the scent that was comming from the brush ahead of her. I gave a short blast on the whistle (that means "don't move") and looked for Buck. He was a ways off to my right, but the whistle blast got his attention and I signalled him to call in Cooper, and come join me. I turned back to the little short hair who had not moved a muscle, and reassured her to wait a bit by calmly telling her to "whoa... whoa." Buck heeled his dog over towards me as Remmy waited without a flinch. We whispered our plan for Buck and Cooper to circle around the big rock to the right, while I moved around the left to flank Remmy from behind. Finally, as we drew nearer to the dog, she put her head down low and stealthily moved into the wind. Buck and I followed with our thumbs on the safeties of our shotguns.

Undetectable to us, the scent of fear filled Remmy's nostrils. "Yes, there are birds out there, a good sized bunch, and they know I am here" she thought. "Got to stay low, and move carefully, or they'll flush". As she closed the distance, the scent got stronger and stronger. She stopped, quivering in anticipation, head down and body crouched with her tail sticking up at nearly 90 degrees from her back. "They are close, very close!" she thought. After a moment one front paw lifted and moved forward, pause, then the opposite rear leg moved up. Finally, she couldn't move any more, her front right paw frozen in mid air. "There they are! Can't you smell them? Get ready!"

Buck and I were bent over and carefully moving as well. Ahead of the frozen dog was an unremarkable patch of sage brush in a shallow draw that opened downward to the West Southwest into the valley far below. For a moment time stood still. Dog, hunters, even the breeze seemed to hold its breath.

Then the innocent patch of brush exploded with the sound of beating wings. Flashes of grey and tan erupted into the air, the ripping sound of small sturdy wings beating frantically. The noise startled me even though I knew it was coming. My thumb instinctively released the safety, and I swung the gun to my shoulder as the dozen or so birds flailed away down the draw towards the safety of the slopes below. I singled out a target and just as I was squeezing the trigger, I heard a shot to my right. Nothing dropped. I shot! Nothing dropped. Frantically, I drew the barrel over to one of the last birds in the bunch. Still in range, I squeezed "BAM"...nothing dropped. As the birds disappeared over a fold in the terrain below, I saw Remmy gamely racing after them.

I turned to Buck and the post mortem started. "Damn! How could I miss!" I said. Buck was just as livid, "I know what I did wrong, I know what I did wrong!" he exclaimed. "Tried to aim instead of just pointing the damn gun!" Meanwhile Remmy was having no luck catching up to those speeding chukar. It took me 5 or 10 minutes to get her to come back. She was looking under every bush and rock in the small basin below us. "Perhaps I did hit one" I thought. So I let her work, and work, but no luck. She finally returned and seemed a little disgusted with me. I was disgusted with me!

Buck and I sat down and had a break after that. Ate an orange and a peanut bar, gave the dogs and ourselves some water, and talked about what a beautiful day it was, and how lucky we were to be here. The dogs even seemed to forgive us after a short spell.

Down below us, probably a half mile or more the chukar were regrouping. I won't try to guess what they were thinking, but it probably wasn't long before they settled down as well. Scratching up the green grass at the base of the sage brush, keeping an eye out for hawks, keeping to cover, and yes....wondering if there are any more dogs out searching for them.

We got into one more bunch of birds that day. Remmy found them again, pointed them out, and I won't go into the embarrassing details. Suffice it to say that even though we didn't bring any birds back in our bags, it was one of the best days ever. Imagine that!!

That's All!