Veteran's Day Father/Daughter Pheasant Hunt

30-minute epic

Sunday afternoon, misty, foggy, Sandy on the way. Nolan's been plugged into the d!@#$% I Pad.

Must... Get... Kid... OUTSIDE! 

I offer a walk in the woods to check on our deer stands --- naaah. I offer to take away the Ipad until further notice if he doesn't get his boots on and meet me at the door --- whi-i-i-i-i-ining. How about we get Brody and look for a bird? -- Okay. (... ev-er-y-one's a win-nah!)

Okay then.  A bell & beeper, vest and shotgun, and a bit o' orange, and out the door.

Up past the barn to the red maples where we've found woodcock in prior seasons. Brody finds old scent - stop and go, searching.  Stopping long enough to activate the beeper, but no woodcock this time.  

He hunts farther down the maple stand, and bumps into a woodcock and gives chase to the edge of the big woods.  I give him a little "what-for" and we resume the hunt down the hill along the edge of the old field, to the other old field edge below the house.  Nolan and I scoot along, keeping pace while Brody works in and out of the woods, making bell music as he rolls along.  

Pretty soon he stops in the woods near the trail where Richie Feller and Angela dragged a deer out last fall.  Nolan and I follow this other music, SportDOG's bobwhite electronica, to the source -- Brody on point.

 

Nolan stays tight behind me as I walk wide around the dog and come in for the flush.  A timberdoodle whistles high for the sky, my gun barks, and the red gods smile. The bird plummets while feathers float softly to the ground as we walk toward Brody and the retrieve. The off-season retrieve training has been paying off, as last year he would've more likely mouthed the bird whereas now he's retrieving to hand.  Woodcock, at least -- still more work to do for consistency on grouse. I take the bird from Brody, and Nolan takes it from me to inspect and carry. Nolan is impressed with the shot, and I disguise my relief. With any luck, we won't find another bird.

But we do.  Brody works farther along the woods/field interface and into a little popple peninsula that juts into the field. This spot has held both woodcock and grouse in the past.  Into the aspen goes the dog, and out runs a deer -- a good-size one, but I couldn't tell whether it sported antlers or not. Ahead, bobwhite beeps are interspersed with tinkerbells, and Nolan and I follow Brody into the aspens. We approach Brody on point, and a woodcock lifts off out ahead, and glides across the field and down into the woods from which we just came. No shot. 

We continue on as before, working into the north breeze, and after we take just a few steps Brody's on point again. This time he's in the edge of the field pointing down into the woods to our left.  As we walk over a little knoll, Nolan get's a good look at the dog and we stop to admire the scene and discuss strategy. And the plan is a simple one -- I walk just inside the woods as Nolan trails along at the field edge. 

Our plan works to a tee, as the woodcock flushes away north down the field edge, with Nolan getting the perfect view.  My first shot misses behind to the right, but the 2nd barrel centers the bird and it falls. We wait as Brody goes for the retrieve, finds the bird, and brings it with speed right back to hand. Nolan, of course, is all proud of his dog, and full of questions about shooting -- were the shots hard? which one was harder? why'd you miss? 

We agree that two woodcock are enough today, no need to hunt further. We walk up the field to the house to get into dry clothes and warm up by the woodstove.  Our little hunt couldn't have turned out better, and I bet Nolan will remember it long after he's forgotten whatever game he was playing on the Ipad. The hunt will be re-lived at Thanksgiving when we eat these birds (prepared according to Pete's interpretation of March Woodcock). Oh, and Nolan's been jonesing to go turkey hunting next spring down in PA (thankyou PGC for the Under 12 Mentored Hunt Program!).  Time to look into youth sized shotguns... but that's another story.



Brody, Nolan, and two timberdoodles



Birds so far

Figured I'd fill space until Pete or Rich contribute the write-up on the Old T trip. Here's a summary of my bird season to date. Before I went to MN, I got Brody out hunting at the FLNF for a couple hours, moved 1 grouse, and Brody pointed two woodcock (2/2). I left Spy home when I went to MN -- I figured all that travel and crate time would be a bit much for a 14 yr old dog. In MN I was able to work Brody several hours scouting coverts and guiding a few hunters. (photos: MN double rainbow, Earl's ES Otto w/ Earl's DIY tricked-out mudflaps, Brody pointing a woodcock). On the way home I was able to hunt half a day. After I packed the car, the first stop on the way home was some paper company land in MN. Tried a couple spots ("fishing") but did not move any birds over a couple hours. The temp was nice -- 50s -- but it was very windy. The final spot was also on paper company land that had been cut periodically. Lots of stands of aspen from <5 old sapling to mature. I popped a grouse that I bumped. Wing-tipped him, and fortunately Brody caught it. Little while later Brody went on point where I saw a woodcock settle in. I walked up expecting a woodcock, but instead two grouse rocketed out simultaneously, away and high. I missed two shots at one bird. In about 15 seconds Brody was on point again. This time the bird came over me high and I dropped it behind me. Over the next 1.5 hrs we moved a few grouse (pointed, bumped or bumped by me) and a couple woodcock. Killed a pointed wc. The final action was a long walk to the beeper. I swung wide, and flushed a red phase bird about 30 yards ahead of Brody, and fortunately killed it. We hunted that place about 3 hours total. Brody handled nice -- I didn't have to talk much. I ran him w/ a beeper on point only, and a bell. Seems to work nicely. Got to have the beeper -- he's hard to see and ranges well out of gun range. The grouse seemed harder to handle this year -- sneaky runners and silent escape "hop flights" well out. The age ratio of grouse from the hunt was pretty heavy to adults. The birds I killed were two adults and one youngster.



Back in NY for a week, I ran Brody almost daily on the backyard woodcock. Just training runs, no guns. (photo pointing local woodcock on a rainy day). I hunted Brody one afternoon at the nearby state forest. Moved two grouse (no points) and one woodcock (pointed, bagged).




The last week of October I was in Maine. Work trip, but I was able to get out hunting a couple hours a few of the days. Had a great time in my old home coverts outside Old Town, but for the life of me I could not connect on a grouse! (just like old times). We moved on average 4 grouse and 3 or 4 woodcock per hour; got points on about 75% of the grouse. Did well on woodcock. Later, out in the vicinity of Grand Lake Stream, the woodcock were just as abundant but the grouse were more variable (1-4 per hour). I heard later that friends in Aroostook County were averaging 10 grouse flushed per hour... Anyway, I had the pleasure of hunting over a friend's springer, which served up a grouse and a few woodcock for me.



Back again in NY, the boys and I tried to find a backyard woodcock with Brody, with intent to kill, but we came up empty. I think our local birds had skedaddled. I got Brody out again to the local state forest, and in 2 hours we moved 4 spooky grouse and 1 woodcock (see Brody's mouth, below). Now with 10 days left in the woodcock season I want to get ol' Spy out for a last chance at a last bird -- a point, maybe a photo op, hopefully feathers in the mouth.

No longer "just" the cook

So I was feeling slightly fraudulent with the attention the Wild Harvest Table has been getting and therefore being asked the question, "do you hunt?", to which I had to reply, well I fish, but I am more the cook. So last weekend I accepted the invitation to go on a squirrel hunt with my family. Cagey set me up with his beloved LC Smith 20 gauge and our oldest daughter had her .22 Chipmunk. We set off for the wood line in the front field. We noted that there suddenly weren't any squirrels to be found when you are actually hunting them, but then we saw one up ahead. Our guide hurried us on. He told us to wait as he went around the huge cotton tree to push the squirrel to our side and not to worry as long as we aimed high. Sure enough, the squirrel came around to our side up high in the tree and I shot. "BOOM", yes the gun tip went up, but the squirrel was shot. He scrambled/fell down the tree and started across the ground. Damn. I shot again. Now he was clearly hit hard and feebly moving away slowly. I have no more shots or ammo to reload, so I call in the sharp shooter with her .22. "Quick, take the squirrel that is getting away (unless I choose to go pick it up, I realized in hindsight)...shoot it in the head", I plead to my daughter. Aim, fire, and the squirrel is quickly dispatched. We now have squirrel to add to our Thanksgiving larder, and I am no longer just the cook.

Kuneytown Youth Hunt!

15 minute epic

Opening day for ducks (as well as the morning following the full moon and west wind that might bring a flight of mudbats) coincided with Nolan's last soccer game of the season as well as the long-awaited Insectapalooza at the university (and notwithstanding my lack of federal duck stamp), so the sporting life of this household didn't get started until the sun, under a heavy veil of clouds, had descended substantially in the west. Both the boys thought it was a good idea to put off supper for awhile so that we might bring Brody out to look for a woodcock.

And so, attired in boots, orange vests and hats, and toting side-by-side shotguns real and real-looking and a spear, we three trudged with Brody up past the barn and pigeon loft to a small stand of red maples above the pasture. We were going woodcock hunting.

A light wind was out of the southeast, so we entered the woods from the north to give the dog some wind to work with. I activated Brody's beeper collar and sent him in. Nolan and Collin followed me; we paused while I answered questions about the beeper and how we'd know if Brody found a bird. In a minute or so (probably less) Brody went on point. I found a good place for the boys to stand and watch while I went ahead to flush the bird. Collin was backing me up with his shotgun (minus caps), as was Nolan with his spear. My stomping about didn't produce a bird, and before long Brody worked cautiously ahead. He came to a stop after another 30 yards.

I brought the boys up to another opening where they had a view the dog, and again I went in to flush a bird. This time a woodcock whistled up. My first shot whistled up through the air past the rising bird, and the second shot tumbled the woodcock to the ground. There was no need for Collin to fire his pop gun, and fortunately no need for Nolan to hurl his spear. Brody over ran the bird, which allowed me to get there in time to take it from the dog soon after he picked it up (haven't progressed that far w/ fetch yet). The boys were pretty excited (so were Brody and I for that matter). They'd seen the dog go on point, the bird fly up, the shooting, and the bird fall. They each wanted a "smoky shell". It was getting late, and the odds of improving on the hunt were about nil, so I heeled the pup and we headed to the house. The kids took turns carrying the woodcock. They recounted the hunt over pizza, and after supper they did a fine job of plucking the bird. The only drawback of this perfect hunt is that their expectations may be a bit too high now. For what it's worth, it didn't seem like a flight had come in last night.

DANIELLE'S FIRST TURKEY

May 8th Danielle turned twelve and was able to start hunting,to say the least I was very excited. we did some scouting around my shop but the turkeys were not active John was nice enough to invite us to hunt on the base so we planned a birthday hunt with John.You cant buy your license until you turn twelve so since I could not sleep anyway so I went to the shop at 2:30am and purchased Danielle's license a perk of being a license issuing agent. Danielle got up at 4am we got prepared for the hunt and were in the woods by 5am. It was a beautiful morning the turkeys were gobbling, grouse drumming and deer moving we had a great morning. turkeys gobbled alot on the roost we called a little to let them know we were there after they flew down it got quiet but we waited and kept calling and at 7:15 a hen showed up to our rightand a red head following her then another red head adrenaline started flowing we needed to reposition to get the shot I slowly moved back and got Danielle's gun pointed in the right direction John slid Danielle around and we were ready the hen and first jake went by and got behind a tree then the second jake came into view so Danielle took aim and had to wait for him to put his head up he lifted his head and then dropped it again darn we have to wait then up came his head and BANG Danielle's first turkey and first kill wason the ground.A perfect shot head and neck it was one of my proudest moments and a memory I will treasure forever. Well enough talk check out these pics.

Take a kid hunting! See you in the field. Eric and Danielle

Putting Meat on the Thanksgiving Table

Thanks to the Tidball family, and the bounty of Canogacopia.

The Bounties of Autumn

Decided on a kid hunt this weekend rather than a solo grouse trip, for a number of reasons. We went for squirrels, on the Canoga frontier. Not only did we mange a few fat Gray Squirrels, we also made a fantastic score on a Chicken of the Woods (Laetiporus sulphureus).

January Snow Storm

Watched the radar with keen interest as a narrow band of snow barreled down on Central PA. After a mid-day sledding excursion with the family, I loaded my daughter Kendall and my pup Lilly in the truck and we set up the mountain for an experiment in grouse hunting.

“I’ve never been in such a winter wonderland” exclaimed Kendall with 100% Kleinman enthusiasm. We eased our way down the long track that leads to coverts with the names of Broken Rib, Search and Seizure and Laureltown. The landscape was spectacular, a shellac of ice covered with six inches of feathery powder.

The shooting party

At Search and Seizure I unloaded the menagerie, placed Kendall in the sled, and slid down the old tote road to the pines, barberry and laurel that attract wintering grouse. The covert is named after a grand mal seizure my black lab Cody suffered during one of our first hunts there with the Vicar, who had discovered the spot. The walking was treacherous, as I had to negotiate curtains of ice-laden limbs, tinkling like wind chimes, while skidding over the base of ice that lay under the snow.

Ice curtain

It was particularly hard paying attention to little Lilly, whose bell was almost impossible to distinguish from the resonating ice. Kendall noted that other than her collar, Lilly's white and liver fur was perfect winter camouflage. But, as soon as the ground leveled and we reached our first cluster of pines, the dog went on point. It was a moment of truth. Kendall and I were sixty yards off and I was hesitant to leave my six year old daughter alone while I searched for the bird. The cover was too thick to drag the sled through. There’s my 7 month old uberpointer holding fast. What’s a multitasker to do?

By the time I made up my mind Lilly had been on point for at least a minute. We ditched the sled and I had Kendall follow me, reassuring her that I would come back for her if I got too far ahead. When I eventually reached Lilly she had been on point for at least three minutes. What’s another few seconds to snap a photo of my canine pride and joy?

First point

After the photograph I circled around to the pines. No flush. I released Lilly and she moved in, pointing again. Just then Kendall called. “Daddy, where are you?” Another moment of truth. I left the dog for the kid, immediately feeling the pressure pulse as the bird flushed in near silence into the whiteness.

We returned to the sled and hunted for another twenty minutes, winding through laurel and over limbs, all the time pushing through icy curtains of branches. Kendall was an incredible trooper, a true snow princess.

Second point

Lilly pointed several more times but we never saw or heard birds. Restricted to the open trail we could not follow up her initial points, as I normally would (she often points several times before we get close enough to the bird for it to flush). It was a long slog back to the truck, but worth every molecule of ATP. Daughter and pup added one more experience to their bond.

Bonded

Post Script: The real adventure occurred just as we were about to exit the state forest onto the two lane highway that leads down the mountain. A pickup had turned onto our icy road, the only one I’d seen all afternoon. The driver slowed to let us pass, slid on ice, slowly, and was only stopped from sliding down the mountain by a forest service sign. If it hadn’t been there he would have slid into a steep right-of-way and rolled down the hill. With tow ropes and ax we were able to rescue him.

Home for the Holiday

The in-laws came Downeast for the extended Thanksgiving weekend. The past couple years my father-in-law, Ken, and I have hunted deer together at Thanksgiving, sort of continuing the tradition my dad and I began when I was a pup. My dad gave up hunting a few years ago, so our tradition now is for me to call him after I get in from deer hunting.


Thursday morning was crispy, upper 20s firming up the rain of the preceding day. I dropped Ken off in the dark to walk to his tree stand, then continued on to my parking spot. I had a quick half mile walk to where I'd left my climber attached to an oak looking over a fairly open side hill. The deer and bears had been feeding on acorns.


The bark of the tree was slick with an icy film, causing me to be extra careful and deliberate ascending to my perch. An hour into my sit, I was wondering when I'd be able to get out for a duck hunt... a flicker of white off to the left got my attention. Within a minute I saw it again. Through the developing fog I could make out the form of a deer facing me, head down nibbling acorns about 100 yards away, the tail occasionally twitching a flash of white. Cranked the scope to 7 power; when the head came up I could see antlers. Small antlers. This time of year, yearling head gear is first choice for choice eating... if you even have a choice. In my 8-10 hours of hunting this year, this was the first deer I'd seen, buck or doe. Around here, with a deer density well below 10 deer per square mile, it's always bucks-only hunting.


The buck was slowly heading in my direction, munching acorns. He drifted a little downslope, but still advancing in my general direction. Then he drifted into a beech thicket, and soon I lost sight of him. Then I couldn't hear foot steps. After 10 minutes of not seeing or hearing "my" buck, I started to worry he'd simply walked away. Or bedded down? I pulled out my trusty Primos "canned heat" doe bleat can. Baaa baaa. Immediately I heard foot steps, but my eyes straining through the fog failed to locate the source. Then I saw him.... walking away. Another bleat, and he's no longer walking away, now he's running away!

A year ago I used the same call to bring in (*almost* for a shot) a mature buck not 200 yards from this location. This year's buck most certainly was not high in the pecking order in these parts. A deer trotted through an opening 80 yards downslope, but I could not see antlers. Through another opening at 85 yards... I saw antlers. I was ready when the buck stopped in an opening at 90 yards. It disappeared at the shot. I kept the scope trained on the spot; 30 seconds later I saw a brief flicker of white, and began descending the tree. The buck lay dead where I shot him, the bullet entering the chest high behind the shoulder, breaking the spine. Not the preferred neck shot, but the carcasse damage wasn't too bad. And the tag was filled, duck/bird hunting opportunities awaited, no longer constrained by the concern to put deer meat in the freezer.

Propped up for draining.

Slid easily on oak leaves.

Yearling 3-point, field dressed 103. I gave dad a call, told him the story.



We arrived home for lunch to an enthusiastic reception.

Ken watched a large cow moose Thursday morning, and a doe the next. Angela hunted deer for the first time Friday morning. In 5 hours she saw no deer but plenty of sign. Seems eager to try again.

Saturday night we had a meal that needs mentioning. The whole holiday weekend was more or less a game feed, with woodcock and fresh deer tenderloin on the menu Saturday. I prepared the woodcock according to Pete's blog entry of October 08. Rave reviews from all -- the legs were especially liked by the women and boys, the breasts being craved by the men and the boys. So far I'm on the good side of the dog spirits.

The deer was delectible as well.