What Do Chukars Think?

Well, it is awfully tempting to dive into some imagined chukar   humor and wonder what kind of diatribe  they might use to poke fun at us hunter’s with.  As if they communicate like us humans do, which they don’t, but we like to anthropomorphize about, that is. Such are some of my thoughts  as I hunt along various terrains with not only my dogs, but my brain as well.  My mind contours the landscape with similar speed as my legs do. Sometimes I even get lost in this parallel world and forget that I am even hunting to begin with. At least until something triggers me back into reality, like  tripping on a loose rock, dog on point, or sudden burst of wings taking to the sky.

Also, in my self-talk,  I sometimes try to think like  a chukar in order to find them. But how can I do that, I’m a human, so I can only use human ideas.  It is difficult even trying to understand women sometimes, how would I ever begin to understand a chukar?  Telepathy is out. So is any chance at really communicating with any kind of animals, when us humans can barely communicate with each other.  Our astronomers think about what messages aliens might be sending out through space, yet learning what our own earth creatures have to tell us might be much more valuable.

But, Earth to Gary, back to birds.  If chukars think, they must not think in words, but what kind of language to they use, if any?  I always wonder how their brains work.  For example: when serious snow hits the high country in an over night storm, but leaves the ground bare on the lower foothill sections, use patterns of chukars can change and adapt to the new situation.

So, from a chukars view-point, I wonder if they can see their landscape and differentiate which areas to change to for food and shelter.  Can they see bare ground amidst the snow, like wind-blown open ridges and draws, and make an effort to seek it out.  That is,  as opposed to just stumbling upon it, or never finding it to begin with.  For another example, if a major mountain side contains some snow free zones that can be seen from a far off distance, can chukars see this and fly over to it?  Do they think, hey there is a good place to find food and shelter? Or is that more like an instinct, or some kind of built in survival detector they just know to do?

I think about the same sorts of things about big game when I am hunting them. In what kind of ways to they use thought, if at all, about how they negotiate their terrain and survive the elements, including predation?  The natural  law of conservation of energy affects the survival abilities of all critters, but they don’t think about it, any more than us humans think about how gravity affects our movements all the time.

Thinking about predation could jeopardize survival, as opposed to acting without thinking about it first.  So immediate dangers that require fast reaction times are better left to the innate “fight or flight” responses for better success potential.

What about other abstract things, like a bird  learning about what happens when they fly  off a high  mountain to go all the way to the very bottom. Do they know how much more work will be required to climb back up to the top again?  Could this be any part of reasoning when a bird flies around the mountain so as not to lose too much in elevation, rather than sailing all the way to the bottom? Knowing it will be less energy draining and arduous, than leaving it up to chance alone.

What about late in the season when birds get up quicker and farther away from you when they see you coming, than they did earlier in the season? It would seem they have learned that distance is important for survival. It is almost is if they know the range of a shotgun. Or that humans require different strategies than other predators. They hunker down when golden eagles soar overhead, hold tight when dogs are on point, and jump into the air as soon as the two-legged hunters show up. How do they know? How abstract, if any at all, is some of their thought?

As you can see, I may have been out on the chukar slopes a little too long. My thoughts, like my dog sometimes does when in hot pursuit, seems to be getting a little too close to  the edge. Those darned chukars. They can make some of us humans go crazy.  It’s probably just another chukar survival strategy.

Chukar Comedy Club

(see the chukar in this picture?)

There seems to be  an awful lot of things that can go wrong when hunting chukars which  can affect ones success rate. At least, mine, anyway.  Not to mention, much funnier to chukars and other hunters around a later campfire, than to me.   However, in self-defense, I spend as much time trying to get photos of dogs-on-point than focus on killing birds. So this often leads to a lot of missed opportunities to shoot, or less than ideal shots when taken anyway.  With camera in one hand and gun in other, then trying to put one down and the other up, before birds are too far out,  often turns into a huge comedy of errors.

(see it now?)

One day I managed to climb over a rise and was treated to seeing my dog on point with birds in sight just a few yards ahead of her. About 8 birds were grouped together within inches of each other, looking like prairie dogs curious about an intruder. Normally, I would go for my camera first, but this time they looked like they were about to burst into the air at any moment.  My second thought was about how hard I had been hunting for the last 5 days in a row, and not a lot of birds to show for. With a chance to get a few birds with one shot, ground sluicing entered my mind. I knew that it is always risky and not usually very productive, but this looked just too good to miss.  But miss I did. When the dust settled after my one ground shot, not a feather was ruffled.  It was if my shell had no pellets in it at all. Greed has grave consequences.

I vowed then and there, never to ground sluice a chukar ever again.  Next time, I would wait until they jumped into the air before shooting. My chance came the very next day. Sure enough, I saw the birds in front of my dog on point. (which is not always easy to see). This time I pressed closer to get them to flush. Click. I expected to hear BANG.  Nope.  In my haste at grabbing gear from my driftboat before heading up the slopes,  I had forgotten to load my gun.

Then another time, I was high on the hill (ok, second deepest chasm in North America) at hard-earned elevations to reach to begin with, and what do I hear when I raise my gun and fire? Click.  That sickening sound again, or lack there-of, indicating yet another brain synapse mis-fire.  My excuse? Well, after I shoot at birds, I normally look for spent shells right away. Spent shell case liter on the  hillside is not a history I wish to leave behind. But,  sometimes that means picking them up before loading my gun again. Then I forget to load it, thinking I already did.   I hate it when my brain works (or doesn’t) like that.

Or how about poor footage on steep ground, unable to get off shots because in your shock and engagement with tricky terrain turns into a balance act of trying to save yourself from face-plants on the hillside. Though sometimes face-plants result anyway. Has your shotgun ever went flying through the air in an effort to save yourself from starting a self-imposed human  avalanche down the steep slopes? This is why I don’t use a fancy shotgun.  Simple, ugly, fine with me. No worries when I do dumbly and stumbley on the mountain.

(  “I think their up their in the snow zone”  )

Real chukar hunters know how many things can go wrong during the pursuit. Birds jump up when you think the dog is only on past scent, after you have done everything to flush birds and are convinced none are there. Then there are those  other areas on open ground, where it should be easy to see birds, but none are seen, until poof; they suddenly appear in mid-air as if jumping out of a magician’s hat. It’s hard to shoot when your pants are down around your ankles, sort of speaking.

( Now that we are up here, I think they are down there.” )

How many times have you finished a hard hunt, after failing to find birds in birdy looking area,  to have them call (really, it sounds more like laughing) loudly to you from where you had just been? Chukars usually do get the last laugh.

Chukar Hunting In The Twilight Zone

My dog is on point. Hurry, hurry, gotta get closer. The pointing pose is too much. I gotta get a picture, chance missing birds.  Sugar is out in front of me, good photo angle, birds still holding.  Soon I am  along side of her, with yet another good angle for pictures.  Now I am approaching the chukar twilight zone. That is the area in front of my dog, where I have now found myself, and my job  to flush birds, yet seeing another spectacular picture from a front angle, not often achieved.  I can now hear the music playing of that long ago tv show..do-do, do-do…do-do, do-do – it plays over and over in my head as I try to get photo while anticipating that telling sound of bursting birds trying to escape dire circumstances.

Now, I’m not really a numbers kind of guy or a fan of trophy hunting, but I am an opportunist. You know, like when you have hiked your buns off and worked hard to gain elevation, and suddenly see a bunch of birds grouped close together and chance to get more bang for your buck. Like was the case for me a few hunts ago, when 8 birds were spotted in front of my dog, only yards away, all standing high,  like prairie dogs trying to see what danger lurked near by.  Then came that same music again..do-d0, do-do…as I had suddenly stepped into the Twilight Zone again.

What to do? The birds were poised to do something (like exiting from a four-legged threat) and I thought my chances for a photo were nil. All this despite the fact that it was one of those rarest of opportunities to get  such a grand photo  (more Twilight Zone music please). But, thinking those birds would flush before I could raise my camera, I felt greed creeping in, too. (hate to admit)  With one ground sluicing shot, I might get several birds and make all my effort pay off at the end of the day. All this of course, knowing full well that killing birds on the ground never works very good to begin with. Sure enough, when the dust settled, only dirt remained. Not even a feather was ruffled, and I was only 25-30 yds distant from them. Surely, it was that damn Twilight Zone effect, again. Buyers remorse set in, as I felt terribly guilty about taking such an irresponsible shot, vowing to myself never to do that again.

The very next day, I was back for more,  far up in chukar land after a grueling climb.  Dog went on point.   Out came my camera and clicking finger, ever the sucker for another potential picture (also knowing good shots only come from taking zillions).  Then I suddenly saw birds and that Twilight Zone music started flaring up again. This time, I put camera away and got ready for birds to bust into flight before I shot. (holding true to yesterdays vow).  They jumped up and I shot. Click went my gun. It was empty.  In all my haste to get up the hill after gathering  up gear from my driftboat, I had forgotten to load my gun. Do-do..do-do; do-do..do-do

(What? No shells?)

It’s hard to find a good hunter to point for these days.

Golden Eyes, Golden Years.

No matter ones age, once a few treks to the chukar slopes have taken place, the many trials and errors of trying to find birds always makes interesting experiences not easily forgotten. Some memories are never lost, though in the re-telling of the tale details  get somewhat embellished or distorted by time and unfortunate disintegration of brain cells.

This is my first post of the chukar season for 2012, now nearly 2013. Sorry, to any of you out there whom may be following or reading my accounts of what it means to be a chukar hunter, but I can’t  conjure up great  reasons (excuses)  for being so lax this year in my  blogging.  It isn’t for lack of being out on the slopes chasing chukars, more so about being lazy with my writing.  I guess my constant journalism of all my forays, and fairly regular posting on my other  ”Natures Apprentice” blog, has taken most of my energy in the writing department.

However, out on the chukar slopes yesterday, my thoughts were stimulated  from memories triggered by the snow I was hiking in. That is, along with the fact that one of my best hunting partners is now in physical therapy from a stroke that left him partially paralysed and unable to walk or move his right arm.  He is making progress, but time will only tell if it will be enough for him to resume one of his favorite past times, chukar hunting.  He is tough, made so by chukar hunting, no doubt. So I’m counting on future forays to the nose bleed zone pursuing feathered foe with him after time heals. Most hopefully.

So, partially, I tell this story as a tribute to him and our long time friendship over the years. I first met him, when he helped drag me and my kayak out of the river, after I got swallowed by a big hole which separated me from my boat. That is another story in itself, not to be told here. However, this initial meeting led to many outdoor river related adventures together over the years.

In chukar parlance, here is one of my favorites. Many years ago, we were on a 10 day trip on Alaska’s Tatshenshini River. This was back before it was very well-known to most river runners at the time. Of course, like everything else, it is more famous and less of a secret these days with social media like the one I am using right here.  Anyway, we were on a  ten-day trip  about  half way through the  journey, doing a lay-over day near a place called “Walker Glacier.” Very beautiful area.

Dave and I were out in the middle of nowhere, hundreds of miles from anywhere, standing on a wide expanse of glacier with miles of gorgeous snow-covered mountain peaks all around us.  Just by chance I had reached inside my long-sleeved shirt  pocket for something and discovered a couple chukar feathers.  It was one of my old hunting shirts, and I’m not sure how those feathers got there, but they inspired me to play a trick on Dave. After all, we were always pulling things on each other, as this is half the fun of adventuring together with your like-minded friends. (in our case, anyway).

Well, I first began with, “Hey Dave, did you hear that?”  “No,” he would reply. Then I would say ”I thought I heard a chukar.”  Then we would hike a little farther, and I would repeat  the same thing, cautioning  him to listening for such sounds. Of course I knew he would never hear it, because we were about as far from any kind of  chukar habitat as one could get. Only an idiot might think otherwise, as he so realized once my ruse was up.

But, on with the  story –  when he wasn’t looking, I placed the two chukar feathers on the ice, where I knew he would soon stumble upon them without my pointing them out.  Once done, he was quick to grab them up with a most amazing look on his face. Then he said: “Wow Lane, you were right, there are chukars up here.”  But I just couldn’t keep a straight face, it was just too funny.  Of course, my huge smile, signaled to him that he had been just been had.  It got to him so much, that he swore right then and there, that he would get back at me for that. And he did. But it took about two years and is another story in itself, also better told another time.

So, out stomping around in chukar world, who knows what feature in the terrain will trigger thoughts of  times gone-by and all the interesting experiences that are made along the way.  Although, it is sometimes sad, too, when we think we can keep on doing this forever, but then one day discover that like the birds we chase, our abilities and time is limited too.  Moral of the story – keep on keeping on, while you can, because you never know when  nature will come hunting for you.

Reading the sun in the golden eyes of my dog on point, yesterday  reveals much more than just the beauty of the day or dog.  It seems to be Nature’s way of reminding me about the golden days of old and all those good times now gone by. And all the great comradery along the steep slopes of chukar world.

Last Day of the Season

Jan 31, 2012 was the a last day of chukar season.  My body welcomes the rest from an arduous and long endeavor of such winged pursuit. Following is what helped make my last day so rewarding.

 

Thanks Girls

Hunting Under Eagle Wings

Note: this post was first published on my Nature’s Apprentice blog: http://wapitisriversedge.wordpress.com/2011/10/ on Dec 2, 2011

I made my way far up the hill today. Ok, canyon is the better word here, but I use “hill” for slang,  and perhaps a moronic guides poor humor when putting one foot in front of the other in a heavenly direction.  Heavenly, both in beauty and a treacherously steep-ward ascension, that is.     In a chasm over a mile deep, only half way up is still a serious assault on lungs and legs.  But it was at this point that I noticed the golden eagle making circular passes over rims far above me.  It caught my gaze, as I scanned the slopes for the chukars I thought I  heard earlier.

Pausing with me for a climbing break, my two weimies, Ember and Sugar, also tried to  catch their breath.  Their panting made the same sound as chukars make, when far away.  It is surprising how similar the sound is, even for an experienced ear.  Sometimes a squeaky oarlock makes the same such noise and fools me just the same when cruising the river in search of birds.

But,  between dog pants, I could distinctly hear some chukars. Unfortunately, they were way too far above, than I was willing to continue  high enough to pursue.  Besides, they soon shut up when the shadow of Mr. Eagle poured over the terrain, giving a clue to its menacing presence soaring above in search of them.

It reminded me of eagles I had seen in the past, when I was lucky enough to watch golden’s with their wings tucked in a power dive and in hot pursuit of a panicked chukar squawking and fleeing as fast as its wings would take it.  But not faster than the bird of prey, and soon it was a hard-earned meal  for the eagle.

Another time, I had shot a chukar on a very steep, razor back ridge, and before the chukar hit the ground, a marsh hawk came out of thin air, swooped down and plucked that cart wheeling bird in an aerial retrieve before it hit the ground.  But it was worth my losing a meal, as the price of admission to be so grandly entertained.

Watching eagles has always made me wonder what it would be like to fly like one, so had to take an experienced para-wing experts invitation to go flying one day, years ago.  I only made one flight, but it was as thrilling as I had imagined.  I was ready to run out and buy my own wings, but suddenly realized that reading air currents is much harder than river currents. I can look at river currents directly. Wind can only be seen by watching indicators, which often, are not readily observable. That is when I figured I better stick with the river. But it was a great experience to feel what it is like to be an eagle.

I am thankful that I have been witness to so many cool things in nature. My secret? Time and effort.  The more time you spend out smack in the middle of nature, the more opportunities for you to see great things.

A great youtube to visit, to see good footage of a golden eagle (like the one I saw today) set to some beautiful music:

Eagle’s Flight – Karunesh

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S-Bo4f78fiM&feature=related

Sorry, I haven’t figured out how to put the Youtube video thing on this post.  Techno challenge.

Rivers make good medicine with us, we make good medicine with rivers.
For river trip information, please go to our website: www.doryfun.comor
Facebook page: http://www.facebook.com/Riverdoryfun

Inspired

Note: this post was first published on my Nature’s Apprentice blog: http://wapitisriversedge.wordpress.com/2011/10/ on Nov 7, 2011

Funny how the mind works, and what things trigger it into the direction it takes.  But no matter where you go, it always goes with you. Ok, sometimes when high on a cliff side hunting chukar it might seem like you have lost your mind. Especially when you choose to take the more dangerous route rock climbing with all fours to save time, as opposed to the safer, but longer back-tracking route, does craziness begin to register.

But the other day when I was out in the middle of nowhere hunting chukars, I saw a huge spire that had always been visible from the river, but I had never seen before. At least, not until I saw it from a different angle and high advantage  on an opposing hill where it became much more noticeable.  It added to the feeling that I had entered some mysterious fantasy world, where it might even be possible there could exist some sort of  chukar hobbits.. I was inspired. OK, oxygen depleted.

In addition, it added to the wonderful feeling of being far away from civilization where one can still appreciate the value og undiluted purity of air, where it actually pleases the lungs to fill at full capacity. What a great place to escape the woes of our more populous industrial pollutions of the  world.  Or so it seems.

This isolated feeling triggered my mind to go back to a long ago memory of a similar time in another remote region of neighboring canyon country. I was guiding for Grand Canyon Dories, and it was my turn to kick back, while other guides took guests on a hike in Hells Canyon. I chose to enjoy my brief reprieve sitting in my dory boat floating around in a large eddy above Granite Rapids.  It was so cool. Every view was awesome, and bobbing around in the dory made me feel like a much closer part of the river.

Having always been active in fighting for various fish/wildlife/land and water issues over the years had been taking a toll on me. I always thought back about what Aldo Leopold (father of wildlife management) said about biologists (which I had trained to be): “One of the penalties of an ecological education is that one lives alone in a world of wounds. Much of the damage inflicted on land is quite invisible to laymen. An ecologist must either harden his shell and make-believe that the consequences of science are none of his business, or he must be the doctor who sees the marks of death in a community that believes itself well and does not want to be told otherwise.”

Everywhere around me I had seen that as human numbers increased, habitats for fish and wildlife were diminished. Subdivisions subdued winter ranges, industrial smoke stacks dim visibility, hamper breathing,  and on and on.  I was tired of being like an ecological doctor and so had checked out mentally of paying attention to the politics of the day. I did not watch tv or  read newspapers for over two months time,  and tried to avoid encountering anything negative caused by humans by escaping to the natural world. So, sitting in that eddy, alone, in my dory, I had found paradisiacal freedom.

But, then I had a semi-epiphany. What if I continued on to  live in my dream world, not paying attention to what the outside world was doing? What could be the harm in that? Well, people could be making decisions that could lead to damming the river I was on, then my paradise would come crumbling down.  Could I make a difference? How could only one person make a difference?  Then I thought about the impacts of Rachael Carson and her book Silent Spring.  She alone helped birds of prey by fighting the pesticide industry through her words and action. Every persons vote counts, because ultimately, it only takes one vote to break equilibrium.

So, it was time for me to start paying attention again, to the politics of people and our effects on the natural world.  Thus is the medicinal value that wild places bring to peace of mind. We need these places to at least temporarily escape the harshness of the everyday routine of scurrying around trying to make a living.  And to think, all this cerebral rambling inspired by one spooky spire on the slopes of the Salmon River.  From chukar hunting to river running, my convoluted thoughts continue to swim in the eddies of my mind. No matter where I go, the center of my circle is everywhere. Once I get my medicine I can go anywhere to be everywhere, and somewhere to be nowhere.

Rivers make good medicine with us, we make good medicine with rivers.
For river trip information, please go to our website: www.doryfun.comor
Facebook page: http://www.facebook.com/Riverdoryfun