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.