Another Nevada Hunt

Last weekend I took off for Fernley Nevada at o'dark:30 to meet my brother in law Buck, my nephew Beau, and an old friend Jim Brunner for a weekend of Chukar hunting. It was my second trip this year, and I had my little dog Remmi in the back of the truck as I cruised through the predawn darkness. There was a full eclipse of the moon in progress, but I had no luck picking it up in my rear view mirrors. I had gotten a late start as I set my alarm to wake me at 5:30, my desired departure time, rather than 5:00 so I could actually shower, and get a cup of coffee before I left. So, while I did get to glimpse the eclipse in progress (about halfway), I had to hustle to minimize my late arrival at Fernley, and the rendezvous.

I had decided the evening before to take along Remmi, the younger and smaller of my two short hair pointers. Delta the older, and more experienced one, can be a little "reactive" around strange dogs, and I knew I would be hunting with my cousin Jim's dog Polly. So, Remmi got the call, I felt bad for Delta. That's the problem with having two young hunting dogs, they both need to go, but even without the potential dog fight problem, it is almost impossible for me to hunt two dogs. They move so fast and cover so much ground, that between watching where I am putting my feet (in some very rugged terrain) and holding on to my shotgun, I soon loose track of where one or both of them are! One keeps me plenty busy.

Arrived at Fernley only 10 minutes late, and we consolidated all our gear into my truck. The large back seat makes it a good rig for hauling four guys, and their dogs (just Cooper and Remmi in this case) out into the wilds of Nevada. It also saves a little on gas money, as we all split the fuel cost. Soon we were back on Interstate 80 Eastbound, smoking along at 75 mph. Even at that speed, and with all the non-highway driving I ended up averaging about 17 mpg, pretty good for a massive, one ton, full size (some would say "over-sized") pickup.

Buck, Jim Brunner, and Martin at the Cowpoke Cafe.
Buzz is ordering in the background.

About an hour later we were eating breakfast at the Cowpoke Cafe in Lovelock Nevada. Cousin Jim was there and it seemed like he knew half the people in the restaurant. For such a vast, and wide open state, Nevada is also pretty "small town". I like it. The food was good, I had an omlette, and the company was great! These pre-hunt meals are always one of the best parts of the trip. Especially the first one with all the anticipation and speculation of what we might find, and how many birds we'll see.

It was another hour from the restaurant before we stopped, let the dogs out, and "rucked up" for the hunt. It is amazing all of the crap you carry "just in case". Of course I guess that could apply to almost anything, even the gun "just in case you find some birds"! I put about a gallon of water (two half gallon bottles, mostly for the dog) in my vest, several energy bars, some dog biscuits, my camera, and some ammo. Around my neck, I wore a dog whistle, a small hand held radio, and my controls for the dogs e-collar. Of course I also had my Browning 12 gauge "Silver Hunter" which is a pretty light weight gun to carry, but loaded with 5 shells, it can get pretty heavy. The subject of how much ammo to bring is always difficult. If I don't bring enough, and get into lots of birds, that would be a real bummer! On the other hand, ammunition is heavy and packing around a whole bunch of extra is probably great from an exercise standpoint, but tends to wear you out. On most of these hunts we end up walking for 4 hours and cover 5 to 7 miles with perhaps 2,000 feet of vertical involved. So, while it might seem like a couple of pounds wouldn't matter, believe me it does! I carried almost a whole box (25 shells). I guess I was optimistic!

The area we hunted.

Remmi and I split off from the four others and started to the Northwest. She is a very active little dog, and it took my constant attention to keep her in sight. Sometimes the terrain just would not cooperate, as she would disappear over a ridge, only 75 feet away, and by the time I got up there she would by 100 yards ahead! She has a much easier time with the terrain than I do!

Man, Dog, and Gun! 

We hunted for a couple of hours without seeing any birds. I finally decided to circle up onto a large ridge system that led back in the direction of the truck. It took a while, but we were eventually on top, when Remmi finally went into "long distance stalk mode". head down low, tail up, moving more slowly and deliberately into the wind. After a few minutes of this I noticed about twenty chukar get up maybe 125 yards ahead of us and fly straight down the ridge away from us. Remmi didn't see them (thank god! She loves to chase once they break!) and we continued on. Finally, she disappeared over a small rock pile maybe 5 feet ahead of me.

I picked my way up there and to my horror saw she was now about 80 yards ahead down in a ravine, looking very "birdie". Before I could react, a single chukar flushed about 10 feet in front of me screaming (literally) down the hill at the speed of sound. I was so shocked that Remmi had passed within yards of this bird, that I just stood and checked my pulse to see if my heart had started beating again yet!

Well that one bird caused quite a racket, and although I didn't shoot (should have) five birds jumped up about 15 yards in front of Remmi. That cut it, she was gone! After the birds she went, and of course she flushed about 15 more (also well out of gun range). As I whistled and whistled to get her to give up the fruitless (but oh so FUN!) chase, I watched two or three other single birds flush near where she had been, and swing around the hill below us. I hoped they had set down, and that perhaps I might be able to get the dog on them later.

Finally, Remmi returned tongue hanging out, and pretty proud of herself. I sternly explained to her that if she hunted WITH me, instead of by herself, she would probably do better! I gave her a little water and let her calm down before we headed down to see if we could scrounge up a single or two. She kept wanting to return to where all the birds had flushed (opposite direction from where I suspected a few might still be). I whistled her over, and finally got her crossing to my right. Sure enough suddenly she froze into a left turn point. Her tail was straight up and quivering, head down and turned left. Glancing at me with her eyes, head frozen, she was "hot" as they say. I moved up slowly, thumbed off the safety, and about 10 feet from the dog, the Chukar broke, downhill and left. I fired once, missed, adjusted my lead (the bird was about 45 yards by now, and about to disappear around the ridge) fired again, and the bird tumbled out of site!

Remmi went bounding after the fallen bird. I reloaded, and shortly, here comes the dog back around, and up the hill with a mouth full of Chukar! I sat down in the sage brush, blew my whistle softly, and waited as she labored up to me, breathing hard through her nose. "Good dog! Good dog! Atta girl Remmi!" She came to me, and I scratched her belly and back, as she held the bird in her mouth. I reached around and grabbed one of the legs, and she gently let go. That made the day for me. She is a fabulous retriever, and if I can keep her under some semblance of control (and the birds are holding) she really is fun to hunt behind!

Took this back at the truck. Two birds, three shots!

After that, she led me directly into a group of about 5 more birds. Same story, she got wind of their nearby scent, and froze. As I approached she would slowly "stalk" ahead, until finally, she refused to move. Bingo, they jumped, and I killed another one. She made a fabulous retrieve again.

Back at the truck it was great to be cleaning birds, instead of grousing about not seeing any. Jim Brunner had shot two, and Beau had killed one. It was an awesome day! We stood around after cleaning the birds, and had a little bourbon, beer, and snacks, retelling the days events. Remmi was tired and hungry, as she wolfed down several cups of dog food from inside her dog can.

After hunt cocktail party. From left, Jim Brunner, Buck,
and yours truly.

Remmi chows down from her crate.

It really wasn't warm (you can tell by the grimace,
 Buck struck this pose for Buzzy's benefit!

Beau contemplates the day's hunt!

We spent the night in Lovelock. I think it may have been the highlight of the hunt for Remmi. She would not get off the bed, and slept with me all night. She never moved a muscle, or made any noise all night long.

The next day we missed cousin Jim, but were joined by Buzz Ebright, and his friend Martin. It was strange to see Buzz arrive at the Cowpoke in a silver Toyota Hybrid SUV, instead of his trade mark beat up pick up truck. I never thought I would see the day, obviously the vehicle belonged to Martin! However, Buzz did seem like he was enjoying it!

Remmi loved the room! We thought it was kind of a dive.

Buzz and Martin's "Ride".

We went back to the same area the second day. Remmi once again found birds too far out in front of me, but this time we were unable to locate any stragglers. No birds were to be had that hunt, but another nice happy hour with story telling back at the truck softened the days failures.

I got back home at 8:30 that night, it was nice to be back. We cooked up the Chukar soon after that using Kim's Mother's recipe for sauteing it all up and serving it over pollenta. Wow! It was fabulous.

That's All!

Cutting our Tree

Well, I told you this was going to be all out of order. After Thanksgiving day last month, we made our annual trip up into the forest to cut our Christmas tree. As usual, the Roberti's (Dave, Jane, and Kristin) came with us.  This year the Bohms (Boogie, Debbie, Kai and Kira) came with us as well. They aren't first timers. They cut a tree with us year before last. However, this year we had an additional three folks who joined us. They were friends of the Roberti's. Cheryl and her two daughters Mattie, and Mazie came up from the valley to visit, so it was quite a crowd.

We all met at our house around 1:30 in the afternoon on Friday. It was a beautiful day, and we were mostly recovered from the feast the day before. Kim packed up some snacks and hot chocolate, Jane grabbed her picnic basket of goodies and our three car convoy headed for Yuba Pass. My old Ranger District, Sierraville, has started selling a limited number of Christmas tree permits. It is something I always wanted to do, but never overcame the bureaucratic inertia to make it happen. My hat is off to Quentin Youngblood, the new ranger, for getting it done. Of the two areas designated for cutting, we headed for the high country south of Yuba Pass.

Maggie and Kristin on the ride up.

The higher elevation (over 7,000 feet) means that the prized "silver tip" fir grows there. Actually, (this is for you Maggie) it is a California red fir (abies magnifica). It is a beautiful tree with burgundy bark when it gets older. So much for the dendrology lesson.

When we got to Yuba Pass we turned South and put it in 4 wheel drive. There was a hard packed few inches of snow, but it was easy going. About a mile in we found our spot. A large flat with widely spaced large old red fir with thousands of young trees coming in below. It was an old "shelterwood" cutting done by the Forest Service probably 30 years before. It has been successful in establishing a new generation of young trees, and many are just the perfect size for a Christmas tree.

We parked our rigs, piled out, let the dogs loose, grabbed the ax and hand saw, and started on our search. I am experienced enough to know by now, that there is really no use in actually attempting to decide on a tree to cut for the first half hour or 45 minutes. It doesn't matter if it is absolutely the perfect tree. It is the hunt that matters most to my beautiful wife! So as we headed off, I began mentally cataloging candidates and marking their location. I figured they would look better to Kim after she had floundered around in the snow for a bit, and the hands and feet were chilled a bit. It is amazing how much easier it is to select a tree after being properly "prepared"!

I stayed above the road, where the sunlight filtered down amply between the large old trees, while the rest of the group was pulled down the hill into the thicker forest for some reason. I have heard (and believe there is something to it) that when people get lost in they woods they tend to wander down hill. Sometimes they are not even aware, that they are loosing elevation. The walking just seems a little easier. I know that when I am out hunting and very focused on maintaining my elevation it always feels like I am actually walking up hill. So perhaps it was this phenomenon that resulted in their voices getting fainter and fainter down the hill from me as I  marked 4 or 5 nice trees in the area I was searching. Delta and Remmy kept me company, as I crunched through the crusty settled snow, ax in hand, listening to the dog bells jangling and tinkling through the forest.

Their bells are a truly wonderful implement to have hanging around their necks as it allows me to keep up not only with their general location and distance from me, but the "doppler effect" lets me know if they are running toward me or taking off into the forest after some critter! When they are running toward me, the tone of the bells is markedly higher, while it decreases in pitch when they are leaving me behind at a high rate of speed. Maggie can explain this with a simple formula or two.

Finally, after about 30 minutes, I headed down the hill to see what, if anything, they had found. When I joined up with them, they were empty handed, and very interested in the trees I had seen. They were especially interested since there was sunlight up the hill a ways, which promised slightly warmer temperatures. (Their feet and hands were approaching optimum tree selecting temperature). I led them back up the hill following my tracks in the snow.

Kristin couldn't resist this "double tree"

While Roberti's had found a tree, nobody else had, and immediately Debbie found a nice looking silver tip. Her children (Kai and Kira) insisted on another with a nice crook in the top because it looked unique in a Charlie Brownish sort of way. I led Kim, Maggie, and Lucy back up my tracks past the trees I had marked.

"Wow, these look pretty good", my wife exclaimed. I told her I had one more for her to look at, just up the hill and in a little shade (as the sun was setting now). I was thinking that we were within a degree or less of "decision time"!

Well, the last tree was hands down the best tree we had seen all day! So, 45 minutes after starting from the truck, and 40 minutes from when I first found the tree, we cut it! We posed for our annual Christmas picture with dogs, axes, and saws in hand. Finally, we dragged the tree the 300 feet down to the truck. There we poured hot chocolate and snacked on salami, cheese and nuts. We stood around the tailgate visiting and enjoying each other's company, laughing and recounting the day. What a great time we had!

Mattie, Kristin, Mazie, and Cheryl enjoying
 hot chocolate and snacks back at the truck.

Kristin, Moe, Mom, Hodge, Omi (Debbie), Me, Kai, and Boogie.
The hot chocolate really hit the spot! 

After loading up, we headed back toward home. Along the way, we came to an overlook of the Sierra Valley. We stopped the truck, and Kim (the photo Nazi) took a picture. It wasn't the first or last picture she took that day. She wore poor Lucy out with her photo mania, probably Moe as well.

Our Valley, from near Yuba Pass!

An early photo of Hodge and Moe.

Staring to get a little old!

Loosing  patience!

We're done!!

At home we all sat down to some wine and delicious turkey soup from our Thanksgiving feast. We visited more, and relaxed, and just thoroughly enjoyed each other. What a fabulous start to the Christmas season!

Our Christmas card! The dogs were interested
in a couple of very loud snowmobiles that were passing through
nearby.

That's All!