Transfiguration Ceremonies

Transfiguration Sunday and the glory of heaven shines on the hills of golden grass. We ascend the mountains for reasons not quite unlike those of the disciples. Yes, differences there are, but it is our hope too to be witness the glory of God in his creation if not to hear his voice thunder from shimmering clouds. To strengthen our souls and refresh our spirits for the weeks ahead. The last day of Chukar Season will be marked by solemn ritual, the dogs scouring the hills noses to the wind, the incense of cheap cigars wafting in conversation anticipating the joyful song erupting from the swinging pipes of handheld organs. Yes in its own way perhaps, a religious event. If not quite the worship of God found in scripture, it still retains its connotations.
The season started slow, months passing by consumed with office work and conflicting schedules. November came and went with nary a shot fired, a man’s soul grows weary, his spirit anxious. December fell in with weather awry, in-conducive to the hunt, edging out the pastor’s coveted time. But Aquarius smiled on the sportsman’s soul, and the sky cleared a canvass for the wingshooter’s art.
Amidst the limestone cliffs cathedral walls of gray, one could hear nature’s hymn sung, the round of covey choirs calling from balconies above. No worries, the dogs hold them tight suppressing their clucks with nervous anxiety. The tension builds as you push for the flush, cautiously moving, anticipating ambush. Signals of the hand motion for position directing you forward as you step slowly, treading quietly planting firmly each foot, waiting for the eruption of flight. Brush and grass, stone and bush morph to form of partridge silhouettes flying against the sky. Cheek to wood, nature’s hymn finds punctuation as the birds fold in flight, tumbling to the ground.
Four to eight mile hikes broken with intermittent opportunity for sport, sometimes unexpected. The chukar makes a break taking off from the rocks above it howls down the canyon for cover below. The first shot misses, but pulling forward by ten feet the bird begins to fold at thirty five yards where the number fives hit home. Yes life is good, the season a success if you don’t see another bird.
Yes we ascended the mountain for reasons not entirely different than those of the disciples. Perhaps the expectations were not entirely met on this Sunday of the Transfiguration, but what more could a sportsman do with such a beautiful afternoon? The chukar evade detection, but the souls found rest the spirit comfort in the seasons closing ceremony. And we then descend to put the guns up, and pray to enjoy another season next year.

Chukar Hunting, Reason to Stay in Shape.

The old saying is you go chukar hunting the first time for fun, after that it’s for revenge. I’ve had good days hunting chukar, but my thirst for revenge is never satiated. See, every time you go you find new reason to want revenge. These birds are brutal. You need to be in shape or it is miserable. Chukar’s get me up in the morning to go running, or hiking. So now I blame them for my shin splints. Next Sunday they aren’t getting away.
Chukar hunting can be a lot of fun, and quite challenging. Chukar, if you don’t know, are in the partridge family. They are a midsize birds, larger than quail, even Hungarian Partridge, but smaller than a Grouse or Pheasant. They come from the Middle East and as such they like barren hill sides littered with rocks, sage brush and cheatgrass, which is their favorite form of food. This makes for some spectacular shooting if you get into them.
Chukar flush almost as beautifully as they fold. But they are an amazing bird for their ability to blend in, in such surroundings. They are gray, black and white with a little coloring on their eyes. And despite being the size of a small chicken, a little larger than a banty, yet I’ve watched them flush from five feet away on all but bare ground where they were completely concealed, making dogs an almost must if you want to get into them.
I have rarely, actually only once, had success hunting chukar without a dog. That was by pure chance, my friend and I happened to have shotguns, and happened to see chukar flush from the roadside. We were able to circle around them on foot while they were coveying up. We got above them and started down on them as they were clucking at each other. Unfortunately my friend was using 7 shot. I don’t use anything smaller than six anymore, I like fives. If I hit a bird I want it to drop, preferably right where I hit it. I was able to retrieve the one bird I saw because I hit it with fives. The bird with sevens escaped our half an hour search.
But dogs make it a little easier. The chukar still have the advantage. But one or two good pointers is a great boon. You don’t want a flushing dog, you want a pointer. The pointer’s job is to climb up above you seven hundred feet and tell you yes there are birds up here, now run to where I am. And when you get there the birds flush if they haven’t left. A good pointer will readjust and follow the birds, making you climb another couple hundred feet. Then he will make you go down, then up, then down. A good pointer is like a coach. But they find birds you otherwise wouldn’t. And they are beautiful doing it. It is exhilarating to see an English pointer go on point on the ridge line as the sun sets behind him. But then it’s time to run, and run up hill.
No, you don’t actually run, you walk very fast and get there as quick as you can without dropping your gun or yourself. Chukar live in tortuous terrain, and so tripping or otherwise falling is always a problem. This is why chukar hunters run during the week. Hiking the hills is tough business. Straight up, and straight down, it’s cold, it’s wet, its dry and warm, you get tired. Rocks give out under your feet, sage brush gives way. I remember once the sensation of skiing as I descended amidst a small rockslide to get where the dogs were pointing. Staying in shape, helps. The better shape you are in the better your shooting is going to be when you get there too.
I’ve had years when for one reason or another I just was not able to stay in shape for chukar season, knee injuries, or laziness. I once thought I was in shape as I spent hours a day on an elliptical machine. Only to find out in my annual hunt to Hell’s Canyon, chukar hunting Mecca, that elliptical machines are liars. You have a choice when you get to the dogs, catch your breath or shoot. If you are trying to catch your breath when you are shooting, your accuracy is going to be affected. It’s just better to stay in shape.
But the there are those days when everything is perfect, perhaps the last day of hunting in Hell’s canyon last year. The weather was nice, the shotgun loaded with six and five, the dogs go on point amidst a flat piece of terrain overlooking the Snake River. You slowly approach the point, getting into position, and walk in for the flush. The bird’s take off, you find one in the flush of 30, and follow through to fold it with sixes just as you see one a bit closer to take with the next barrel, and watch the fives tumble it to the ground. Two birds in the last flush of the season, and well, it puts you in a good mood, and gives you reason to start running again when you get home.

New Boots Make all the Difference Grouse Hunting

About Six and a half years ago I moved to Tooele. I bought a pair of boots. I wore the tread off in one hunting season. I bought a better pair of boots. I blew the heal out in 5 or so seasons. But I didn’t quite realize it. It wasn’t until the end of last season hunting in Hell’s Canyon for Chukar, and applying a new coat of water sealant to my boots, that I realized the stitching was bad. But I’m cheap. So I kept wearing them. This year I have been out hunting three times. I’ve got a couple places I like to go. My favorite never failed until this year.
Oh I see grouse, but I wasn’t hitting. The first trip was nothing new. I wonder why I even attempt middle canyon. The brush is so thick you can’t get a good shot. But it is fun trying I suppose. But up above Jacob City, that is my favorite hole. I nearly always get a couple good shots. I remember two years ago I got three in one clearing. I shot one as it was heading down the clearing, reloaded my first barrel and went to fetch the bird. Sure enough two more flushed. Bang bang. Best shooting I’ve ever done. 9 pounds of meat in my back pouch later and I was waiting to limit out on grouse for the day. Didn’t happen.
Grouse hunting in Utah can be some of the trickiest wing shooting there is. You walk across, up and down some of the steepest terrain known to man. Add to that a thick mat of pine needles and cones shedding off the Douglass fir and Ponderosas, underbrush waist high, and countless trees knocked over by numerous avalanches. Might find it better not to try after a snow storm, I did. The grouse have the advantage in this territory. It doesn’t matter that you have a twelve gauge loaded with six shot and five.
The grouse themselves don’t often cooperate. Sometimes they just sit. Sometimes they fly out behind you. Sometimes they fly from the other side of the tree. Flushing, they sound something like a Black Hawk taking off from a battle field. The adrenaline comes in and you pick up your gun as you look to see where the bird is. Half the time it is ducking behind another tree when you pull the trigger. Lots of trees get trimmed in this manner. But then you get those days.
The weather is cool, and your breath dissipates in front of you as you head into the clearing. You hear that familiar flush, and see the bird. You pull the trigger and watch it fold. Beautiful. Nothing makes a wing shooter feel more alive and accomplished. But this year that wasn’t happening, and I was missing the good shots.
So Friday came along, and my friend Kevin and I decided to make an afternoon of it. The grouse were thick but not cooperating, and again, even missing the good shots. We ended up heading down a steep draw and my boots were not helping. I wasn’t getting the footing I needed to feel comfortable, and was beginning to think these boots might kill me. Then it hit me, they might have everything to do with your lousy shooting. Not that I’m always that great of a shot mind you. But I’m not as lousy as I was shooting either.
Saturday I decided to buy a new pair. I bought the best I could find at Big 5, for 29.99, Itasca something or other. Then I decided to break them in for an hour or two before sunset. Well, it’s never a good idea to hunt the same place two days in a row, but I did anyway. I only saw two grouse.
Heading into a clearing at the far end of a patch of pine, I had one grouse fly out from behind a sizable Ponderosa. Going on a little further, I got the flush or a life time as a second one took off from the underbrush like a Huey under fire. Under fire it was. The number six shot strafed its back, and knocked it on the first shot. Shooting slump cured. (I hope).
In all honesty though, it was a good lesson. Make sure your boots are in good repair. Wing shooting is tricky and if you can’t get your feet planted firmly, likelihood is you are going to miss. Not to mention it’s just dangerous walking around in thick forest on a steep hillside with a shotgun and shoddy shoes.