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Showing posts with the label Brittanys

The Big Wait

She was the runt of the litter, the one that no one wanted.  And, arguably, she turned out to be the best of the bunch. Thats what got her into her present predicament.  That being, pregnant.  If you're going to have pups, it might as well be from a good mama.  Now, I'm no dog person, my wife is.  Whatever I've learned about dogs has come by default.  Like they say, half of life is showing up.  Well, I show up at home every day.  The dogs greet me.  To them, I'm just another member of the pack.  I scratch ears, rub bellies.  Sometimes I feed 'em popcorn.
But, as they say, I digress.  Maggie is a dog in waiting.  We're waiting too.  The living room has been converted into a nursery, the house... a sauna.  Gotta keep them pups warm (if they ever come).  Right now, Maggie is shivering, perhaps the beginnings of the whelping process? 
Meanwhile, I'm sitting in my underwear.  Its so warm that my eyelids are sweating.  


And The Point Is...

An afternoon afield, in black and white.

Bird dogs. 
An expanse of grass
It's big country. 
Huns. 
Wife too. 
Well, they are her dogs.






















March Pheasant

A day of chasing dogs and pheasants. Todays cast of dogs: Addie, Emma and Maggie, aka the twisted sisters.  Each dog had its turn.  Old lady Lucy stayed home.  Someone had to guard the yard from marauding rabbits.



The day started out cool, which, as it would turn out was a blessing.  Hot dogs don't hunt too good, hot humans either.  We didn't have to worry.  No sweat today.  The wind blew through us most of the day.  Thankfully it was from the south.



A skiff of snow lingered.  Handy for tracking the wily running rooster. 








The usual gig.  The birds were out there, just had to find them.  You get some, others get away, unscathed.  Once they get up and get wind under their wings, away they go.  And the ones you see first?  They've probably already seen you.  Can you say adios?







It's amazing how cagy a pen reared bird can be.  They can be strutting around, eating grain in the morning.  A few hours later, out in the field, they seem to realize....what do they realize?  Hell…

Wild Ones

Anyone who takes up bird hunting believing that it's easier and more productive that hunting big game must be supremely mistaken.  Let me tell you, there might have been a time, many decades ago when that was the case. Here in Montana, big game has always been king. Birds? Well, they were an after thought for most folks.  Almost no one hunted them deliberately. Nowadays, there are quite a few avid bird hunters, both in staters and out.  Many have great dogs and hunt hard.  As for the birds, any that survive the opening day "baptism by fire"  dummy up quickly.  After a few weeks of pressure they get wild as hell.  Just getting within gun range is a major accomplishment.
Take for example our recent sojourn for sharp-tailed grouse.  We spent two days covering a lot of country on foot, trying to locate birds and get within shooting range.  When we eventually found some, they invariably flushed a hundred or more yards  out.  Often, they flushed nowhere near the dogs.  Whethe…

The First Fifteen

I know that I'm not the only one that feels the seasonal sense of urgency.  All of us who live in northerly climes know it.  The clock is running.  The big W is around the corner.  We can't keep it at bay, but we can sure make the most of the remaining days.  
September?  Glorious.  There's just not enough of it.  Bob Garnier recently posted about it on his great little blog, Trout on Dries.  But then, as an Albertan, he knows about urgency and winter. As a Montanan, I appreciate Alberta.  Heck, they send us weather.
No matter.  Back to September.  It's an embarrassment of riches.  Back when I bowhunted avidly, I'd spend weeks wearing out boot soles by chasing elk in the high country.  Now, other vices have supplanted the pursuit of elk.  
There's birds and dogs to chase, high and low.  Trout to catch that now revel in the cooling water.  Just pick a river to fish.  And, heaven forbid, steelhead, if.....
So far we've spent a day in the high county where th…

And Now A Word From Our Sponsor

Sorry.  Ain't got nothing.  Ain't done nothing.  Not much on the horizon either.  Rivers are blown. So, there's no need to worry about fishing.  I wonder if my back will be up to snuff by lets say... August?

A Christmas Stroll

Today, Christmas day,  dawned quite cold.  We wanted to get out, the dogs did too.  We waited for it to warm and got going by mid-morning. 
I've done little since last summer, and wondered how the old bod would hold up on the trail. When we got to the Bear Canyon trailhead, it was still a little chilly.  I strapped on the snowshoes, Jo elected to take her chances and went without. Fortunately, most of the trail had been packed by folks on skis. 
Here's how it went……..











It turned into one beautiful bright day, eventually warming to the upper twenties.  We covered about four miles.  It felt good to get out and walk.  What a nice Christmas day.



Looking Back, Looking Ahead

I was going to call this piece the "Annual Report", but somehow I didn't think it right.  The title would have been borrowed from a piece that Gene Hill often wrote about his yearly endeavors.

"The annual report is a misnomer.  I don't know what it should be called, since it's a mishmash of glossed-over misadventures, distorted emphasis, selective memory, and a very human inability to face any facts that seem harsh, or unpleasant, or postponable." From "A Listening Walk, and other stories" by Gene Hill" 
So here it is, a few random thoughts about the year past and a few wishes for the next. With all due respect to Gene Hill and his fine writing.

I find ways to visit the spring creek more, yet find myself fishing less.  It's a treasure.  In the short time that I've been preoccupied with this blog, the creek has served as the subject for many posts. Few of the posts dealt with the great fish that I've caught (there have been few…