Montana Outdoors: Remembering Kate the Wirehair

Yesterday our afternoon walk-about took in a place apparently ranked high among Kate's long list of favorites...Pure conjecture on our part based solely on how she would suddenly sit up and start talking as soon as the truck hit the gravel. She behaved similarly in all seasons but especially animated and talkative during the fall hunting season when she "knew" sage hens lived here and better yet were fair game. But I believe she relished our winter jaunts as well because then she "knew" the prospect of running into pronghorns (along with certain cows pronghorns got her talking also) and sage hens was almost a given.

This was her last point, a Hun at Wall Creek WMA on the Madison River last Labor Day weekend. Diabetic and blind Gale led her close on lead then turned her loose...obviously her nose still works as it did until the end...sleeping in the living room one day last week Gale came in carrying a bag of dog biscuits...Bam! she's awake on the bag like stink on you know what...Of all the dogs I'd say far and away she sported the best nose; bee-lining several hundred yards to nail a single bird; kicking brush so far ahead her point she just had to be lying...But NO...and on and on. Perhaps the best was the time I caught her belly deep in a little crick slowly sniffing her way upstream oblivious to my rant to "get the hell outta the crick and get on with it, for Christ's sake! we're huntin' birds not muskrats!" That's when I spied the duck's bill sticking up beside a drowned cattail. Undaunted she continued the investigation, plunged head under and came up with one very surprised hen mallard...Imagine. Ya little bitch...

Over the years, in season and out, she pointed many sage hens in a variety of locations. And while not much of a counter and a worse record keeper I'd put up the farm she pointed more here than all the rest combined. Just beyond the ridge the pronghorns are standing she pointed her first (age 7 mos) and one of her last (age 11 yrs); two memorable moments high on our thick list of Katie Highlights.

I can't prove it but by age 4 she had pointed literally hundreds birds--sage hens; Gambel's, scaled and Mearn's quail; ruffed, blue and spruce grouse, chukar and Hungarian partridge, California quail and pheasants across several states--Idaho, Montana, Arizona, North Dakota--and Alberta.

Of all the many bird dogs I've blown a whistle over none switched gears like Kate...ducks in the a.m., pheasants or you name it in the p.m. never missing a beat. Uncanny in her ability to figure out what we were looking for and then finding it.

Uncanny also how she seemed to know almost as soon as she left the truck whether or not birds were about; I know hard to believe but she was so seldom wrong that when she started bringing back bones (a faux pas  she began as a pup apparently to amuse herself in lieu of birds and one I never could fix); like boss this is clearly a waste of time...Well, like the old saying goes, trust the dog...time a pack it in and look elsewhere....On to the next spot...you guessed it... Kate hops out, puts nose to wind and...as I say...uncanny.

Fly Fishing: Paring Down the Load and a Sad Day Indeed...

Hang the landyard, stuff the fly box, tippet spools in shirt pockets, tug on the waders, grab the fly rod and go for it...Quick and easy, just what the doctor ordered to sooth a simple-minded soul.

I know, I know here we go again yet another Fly Friday posted on a Saturday mornin'...sorry but yesterday for us was Black Friday...the blackest friggin' Friday maybe ever...I'll fill in the details later...but for now all I can say is Katie girl our bird huntin' ain't never gonna be the same....

Upland Bird Hunting: Snakebit Annie Update...

It's been more than 7 weeks since Annie's rattler run in at Freezout Lake. And just a few days ago since we declared her severely atrophied leg and foot almost back to normal. The way she has been rambling the past couple afternoons pretty much erases any doubt we might harbor.

A couple days ago obvious she smelled birds but in the howling wind just where who knows? So after much tail wagging and snuffling back and forth over a wide area suddenly she took off. At warp speed, a quarter mile out wheeled around, went a quarter mile the opposite direction; wheeled about came back part way turned into the wind, dropped into a kitty-cat-like moving crouch would make a hunting lioness green with envy and...Pointed. But apparently the birds were on to her, because as soon as she stopped the whole bunch lifted from the sage 50 yards ahead, caught the wind and vamoosed over yonder hill.

Gale yelled, "Looks to me like she's back," to which I gave her assertion a hale and hearty thumbs up, turned and muttered "Good girl,"...Which of course fell on deaf ears, as Annie baby was by then flat out gone over yonder hill in what can only be described as hot pursuit...Hooray!   

Big Hole Cast 'N Blast....

was, well, a blast. First cast in No Name Creek a real lunker brookie ate the Orange Stimulator I had tied on in deference to Gale--like the Orange beauty has been a favorite, actually her go-to fly for decades--who was herself tied up at the moment tending to Kate who was at the moment engaged in ferreting out yet another interesting scent...Anyway no boots, no camera handy, standing on a high bank, no way to get down to land the beast (in one piece anyhow) I did the next best thing and tried to lead it downstream--no dice, no witnesses except for Annie of course so there you have it. How big? Well pretty big especially considering the crick's rather tight living quarters but in actuality...like the man often points out this one we will just never know. I know, I know the beeg ones always somehow get away...what can I say.

Here are a few keepers of another sort...hope you enjoy 'em even half as much as we enjoyed living 'em...

24 chilly degrees this mornin'...

Nothin' I know gets the blood runnin' quicker than crawlin' into frozen wading socks and boots...

Not a bad way to end a long day of adventurin, eh?

Mule Ranch/Pintlar  Range is perhaps our favorite Montana vista...

Big wind set the Stewart Mountain Fire (a few days ago officially declared DIW) to smokin' big time...so much for 100% contained, eh?

A Castin' and A Blastin'...Not necessarily in that order...

Off track sort of is this update of an earlier post dealing with the whacky fisher folk better known as "noodlers"...shouldn't surprise to find the activity alive and well in Okie country, eh?

http://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2011/09/04/magazine/LOOKcatfish.html?ref=magazine

Gale reminded me today how remiss of late my rantings and ravings so...My excuse being free at last (sort of) from the trials and tribulations of the guide wars we taken advantage to instead kick start the bird season and of course get a little castin' in too. Admittedly the castin' has taken a backseat to the blastin' but hey, been quite a lull in the action for both us and the dogs so like what do you expect. Anyways here are a few shots should serve as proof we ain't exactly been settin' around twiddlin' our you know whats...

Kate might be blind as a proverbial bat but don't think for a moment her nose don't still work...Notice the lead Gale used to get her in the ballpark of this Hun covey...pretty damn nifty I say...

Annie I think approves of sharin' the bird findin' with sister but just to make sure no one gets the wrong idea she is quick to take credit if given the slightest opening...sort of a dog thing, eh?

Annie and your reporter cooling their heels on a really too hot afternoon for chasing Huns...actually we decided enough already upon running into a rattler whilst chasing Huns...nuff said on that nasty subject...

On yet another track there seems to be more "nice" (no this is not a trophy size muley, not by a long shot) bucks (whitetails especially) around than usual so in the interest of honest photojournalism been trying to capture a few as proof...alas most mornings while no problem to see bucks the majority are far beyond range but I'll keep trying and you never know might even get lucky...

Bird Hunting: Opening Day...

...As mentioned yesterday our opening day tradition is to hunt our "secret spot" for blue grouse and Huns up high in the No Name Mountains. Instead, for reasons still not entirely clear, we headed to another Nameless Range and...Uncovered a veritable spruce grouse bonanza. Annie hunted good, pointed a bunch and...Well given we ARE talking the most foolish of fool hens, a point does not necessarily result in a flush, at least not the sort I care to shoot at...So we flushed a bunch and finally got a couple to fly off in somewhat true grouse fashion, i.e. NOT flutter to the nearest limb and...Well while I would not care to make a habit of gunning down the most foolish of fool hens...It twas fun, especially watching Annie in action. Best thing though even ol' blind-as-a-bat Kate managed to get in on the action despite being on lead the entire time...For us the high point of the operation, by the way...Our hope all along has been as long as she is able to get around to get her nose full a bird scent as often as possible...Come to think on it can't hardly beat "most foolish fool hens" in that regard...Go get 'em Katie girl...

Grouse goodies, such as these currant berries, were everywhere...

...and so were the spruce grouse, aka Franklin's grouse, aka fool hen...Albeit many were youngsters we did manage to flight a couple mature birds...

...such as this pair...The main ingredient to what should be a fine game dinner some evening soon...A little red wine, perhaps candlelight...OK maybe we'll skip the candles this time around but you do get my drift...Of course you do...

Bird Hunting: Season Opener Just Around The Corner

Annie (6 months old) , fetching a Hun  is no longer a puppy but seasoned veteran...

...Hard to believe when the season opens September 1 she will be kick starting her fourth hunting season, like my how time does fly.  I can recall how not so long ago agonizing over how time just seemed to stall out between hunting seasons...Now it seems you blink about twice and another year has passed by. Another thing hard to get my head around is this will be my 55th bird season...Yikes, now there is a REALLY scary thought. Speaking scary now the other night as I tossed and turned trying my damnedest to fall asleep I tried naming all the bird dogs who have more or less owned me and well, sad but true, some just would not pop up...I can't for the life of me recall hardly any of my old hunting partners dogs...Oh well no big deal  I guess considering sometimes  I can't bring up their names either...And please don''t take it personal just is is all...

On another track been getting mixed reviews on the bird situation...For instance with the horrendous winter out in east Montana it was sort of a foregone conclusion the hunting would be grim, especially rooster-wise but now reports are coming in might not be quite the disaster we once thought...Idaho and Nevada chukar hunting is expected to be off the charts good...And in Arizona it looks like the Mearn's quail hunting might be pretty good...Don't know if we are up to dealing with the border issues go along with Mearn's hunting but...

As always time will tell and we will give it our best shot regardless...no real surprise there, eh?

Bird Hunting: Ultimate Hunting Bus vs. Bird Huntin' Haus

Bird Huntin' Haus (click to enlarge) parked in the desert near Never U Mind, AZ.

In the most recent issue of Shooting Sportsman, Tom Davis, one my favorite writers by the way, penned a short piece, "The Ultimate Hunting Bus," to which I could not contain myself, shouting... Well, while I'm certain such refrains will no doubt someday be acceptable Gale says we're not quite there yet so here is the ah, kiddies version, sort of...

 

Re: The Ultimate Hunting Bus (Shooting Sportsman, pg. 22 May/June 2011)

Golly gee! what a novel idea. Imagine, a “mobile hunting lodge.” Why hellamighty, according to its proud and ingenious owner, “can literally park where he hunts.” And a genuine Blue Light Special to boot: “in the mid-six figures,” a mere drop in the ol' bucket, eh? Whew! Sort a takes your breath away; actually leaves me speechless…almost.

A few paragraphs in it hit me our “mobile hunting lodge” a rather spare (Ok, cheap) 18 ft. camp trailer we christened “Bird Huntin’ Haus,” (corny I know) we had somehow kidded ourselves into believing adequate might very well be, well, laughable. In case you wondered it came in slightly south of 12 grand, yes, as in low five figures).

But not so fast. Delving deeper I came to realize the two are indeed quite similar—price aside that is. UHB boasts a stereo; BHH, check. UHB, flat screen TV; BHH, check, no doubt way smaller but still. UHB, galley, shower, head, refrigerator-freezer, sleeping berths; BHH, checkmate.

OK so we don’t got a “bump out or enough kennel space for 17 (!) dogs” and damn we don’t even own an ATV, let alone one tricked out by none other than Green Bay’s finest  “Artists in stainless steel.” Double damn! Though we do kennel 1 (!) dog under the dining table it pains me to admit the old dog is left to fend for herself—on the couch or, you know, share the queen size bed—poor precious puppies, eh? And 8 miles per? Shucks, our old diesel hauler beats that even in a 40 mile headwind.

You might write this Ol’ Boy off as awestruck, envious even jealous but you would be wrong. For you see we (two hunters, two GWPs) have lived (quite comfortably and thanks for asking) in the BHH amongst countless feathered fowl in all sorts of outback spots, all over Montana, in Idaho, Nevada, North Dakota, Arizona (55 days this year; lest you loyal followers forget, literally surrounded by quail to boot).

But as I’m sure the man once said, “To each his own.” If it takes plunkin’ down “mid-six figures,” to trip your bird huntin’ trigger all I got to say is… By God goferit…And should you stumble on one our sorry camps, perhaps tired a swillin’ beer, hell stop in, we got bourbon and ice even…

Fly Fishing: Al's New Digs n Other Timely Matters

Al Lefor's New HQ/photo courtesy Great Divide Outfitters

Al's new fly shop is located on Pump House Road; turn right just before crossing Divide Bridge. As you can see the building is a tricked out old log building, complete with antique wood stove (although given Al's recent propensity to flee the Big Hole at the first sign of winter it probably won't see much use except in early spring) a nice touch--one Al says early reviewers agree is "nice and homey". Hominess aside like the old shop the new digs are well-stocked with all the latest additions to Al's obvious addiction to well-concieved fly patterns, Scott Rods, Super Fly Floatant (secret recipe, don't ask) and fine books--well, make that used to be fine books given the recent conspicuous absense of Robbins' Flyfisher's Guide to Montana...sorry couldn't pass up the chance at shameless self-promotion. Anyway Al promises he'll be back from the sun and sand on or about 15 March and open for business so do yourself a favor and stop in...all kidding aside you will not be disappointed...onward and upward.

On another track, Will Jordan forwarded Montana Sporting Journal's recent interesting and informative interview with Ed Bangs, USFWS Wolf Recovery Coordinator. To read the interview click the link below:

http://www.montanasportingjournal.com/pdfs/excerpts/GrayWolf-Interview.pdf

On yet another track we are packing the Bird Hunting Haus and plan to launch a bird hunting safari Monday or Tuesday depending of course on the current blizzard situation. We hope to start the operation in southwest Idaho, move it south into Nevada and then on to Arizona. Valley quail and chukar in Idaho and Nevada; desert quail in Arizona; although the AZ operation, given the grim reports filtering out Mearn's and scalie land, will most likely involve running down Gambel's. How long this will last depends, but we hope to poke around at least through January. If all else fails it sounds like New Mexico might be better well we could end up there? Anyway since internet connections will be sporadic at best so too will be our posts to this blog...But fear not updates are forthcoming but as I say sporadic.