Andrew Marshall Wayment's Blog, page 12

Tom Davis: Idaho Uplands: The Great American Bird Hunt

Here’s Field & Stream’s link to Tom Davis’s great article

Here are some images from Upland Idaho October 2014…more tales and lies to come.

1920′s Colorado Blue Grouse Hunters–Salida, Colorado

My blue grouse hippy friend, Kent, found this photo in a Salida restaurant the other morning while having breakfast…he had to send this picture to me. It’s epic!

1920’s Colorado Blue Grouse Hunters–Salida, Colorado

My blue grouse hippy friend, Kent, found this photo in a Salida restaurant the other morning while having breakfast…he had to sent this picture to me. It’s epic!

THANK GOD I’M A COUNTRY BOY!

(Written by John Denver and revised by Andy Wayment)

Well life in the wild is kinda laid back

Ain’t much an old country boy like me can’t hack

It’s early to rise, early in the sack

Thank God I’m a country boy

Well a simple kinda life never did me no harm

A raisin’ me a family and bird dogs on the farm

My days are all filled with an easy country charm

Thank God I’m a country boy

[Chorus]

Well I got me a fly rod, I got me ol’ creel

When the sun’s coming up I got my flies in the riffle

Life ain’t nothin’ but a steady flowing river

Thank God I’m a country boy

When the work’s all done and the sun’s settlin’ low

I pull out my fly rod, fish puts it in a bow

The rocks are pretty slick so I take it kinda slow

Thank God I’m a country boy

I’d go bird huntin’ all day if I could

But the Lord and my wife wouldn’t take it very good

So I hunt when I can, work when I should

Thank God I’m a country boy

[Repeat Chorus]

Well I wouldn’t trade my life for diamonds and jewels

I never was one of them money hungry fools

I’d rather have my hunting and my fishin’ tools

Thank God I’m a country boy

Sunny Girl and the grouse she retrieved.

 Yeah, city folk drivin’ in a black limousine

A lotta sad people never been fishing

Son, let me tell ya now exactly what I mean

Thank God I’m a country boy

Raisin me a country boy!

 [Repeat Chorus]

Well, my fly rod was my daddy’s till the day he died

And he took me by the hand and held me close to his side

Said, “Live a good life and fish this rod with pride

And thank God you’re a country boy!”

Dad and Tommy fishing Birch Creek in 2011.

My daddy taught me young how to hunt and how to whittle

Taught me how to cast and drift a nymph through a good hole

Taught me how to love and how to give just a little

Thank God I’m a country boy

[Chorus]

Well I got me a fly rod, I got me ol’ creel

When the sun’s coming up I got my flies in the riffle

Life ain’t nothin’ but a steady flowing river

Thank God I’m a country boy!

Thank God he was a country boy!

NO SENSE TO COME OUT OF THE RAIN

Last week was crazy busy at work and I had no time to get out hunting with the dogs, which was kind of a bummer because the weather was the bluebird kind that we bird hunters live for. So I planned to hunt Saturday morning. Problem was that the forecast for the weekend was nonstop rain. In fact, not long after I got off work on Friday, the storm clouds rolled in and the rains poured down with a vengeance.

Early Saturday morning as I listened to the rain, I questioned whether or not to go hunting. In my younger days, I would have gone come hell or high water. But more recently, I have felt that if I have the choice, I would rather hunt in better weather.

At 7:47 a.m., Brother Shawn texted me from Colorado, “You hunting today?”

I replied, “Not sure . . . it’s freaking raining.”

“I hate rain!” Shawn responded.

“It rained hard all night. I may still go.” I wrote back.

“Kill a wet one!” Shawn challenged.

“I wanted to go to Grouse Springs, but the roads will be crappy. Guess I’ll hunt up on Grouseketeer Ridge . . . I’m going hunting!” I asserted determinedly.

When I finally got on the road a little after 8:00 a.m., I questioned my decision as the rain came down creating huge puddles in the road and swamps in the farmers’ plowed fields. But I kept driving hoping to find a break in the clouds. If nothing else, I would have a nice drive in some beautiful country.

By the time I reached Grouseketeer Ridge, the rain was only a drizzle, but one that could get you nice and wet in a hurry without the right gear. So I donned my rain jacket and Wick Chaps.

While it rained, I decided to try and find the nest of the hornets that attached me on Labor day. Here is what I found. It was right over my head and I did not even know it at the time.

This hornet’s nest is a big as a cantaloupe.

The dogs and I hiked fifty yards up the logging road and I quickly saw a ruffed grouse walking though the timber above the steep embankment on the uphill side of the road. I sent Misty up the embankment and she made a nice flash point. The bird then flushed low and I fired a shot through the thick timber without any results. To my chagrin, the bird landed in a nearby pine tree. Try as I may, I could not get a stick up there to make it flush. So I decided to keep hunting up the ridge.

We reached the fork in the road and took the short fork to the right that heads up to “Rock Heaven,” which my daughter Eden named last year because she thought the trail was rocky and because the view was heavenly. The name just sort of stuck. Misty worked the steep hillside above the road and bumped one, maybe two, blue grouse which flew high up into the nearest Douglas Fir.

“Misty, you hold ‘em!” I commanded in frustration. I repeated this phrase a few times hoping to get it through her thick skull that I wasn’t pleased with her performance.

We then headed across Grouseteer Ridge, through a cut in the mountain, and up the old two track leading to Dusty’s Nub, which is a sage and buck brush covered hill above tree-line. At this high elevation, the wispy clouds blew by us as the rain steadily fell. On rainy days in the past, I have found birds right up on the Nub so I was hopeful despite the inclement weather.

As we worked through the sagebrush a Tweetie bird got up which almost caused me to raise my gun in excitement. I said out loud, “You are lucky I know the difference between a blue grouse and a Tweetie bird!”

On high alert, I walked about ten more steps and a big blue flushed ahead giving me a nice straightaway that I made good on. Misty made it to the downed bird first, but she just stood over it and the old-timer Sunny Girl stepped in and made the retrieve. I was instantly glad I had braved the elements. It’s funny how that works.

We then turned around and headed back down Grousekteer Ridge hoping to find another bird. At the same area where we had earlier found Ol’ Ruff, Misty pointed again, but the bird did not hold long and my rushed shot missed its mark through the dense forest.

We walked around the bend and headed up a logging road I call, “The Steps,” because in this area the logging road switchbacks back and forth creating steps up the mountain. Misty again locked up on point on the downhill side of the road, with Sunny Girl honoring. Paraphrasing Howard Cosell, “Now that was a sight to behold!” Before I could get into good position, however, Misty quickly moved forward and flushed the bird, which landed in a nearby tree. I pitched a few sticks and then missed the difficult diving shot such tactic usually produces.

Again, I sternly told Misty “You hold ‘em!” Had she held for just another second or two, I would have been in a great position to take that bird—or at least to have an easier shot.

We hunted the Steps for a while longer, but decided to try our luck at The Outhouse further down the main mountain road, which was my most productive covert last year. When we reached the gate into the narrow valley leading to the Outhouse, it was still raining. Notwithstanding, the dogs and I headed up the two-track into the covert.

As we walked, Misty hunted the quakies on the left-hand side of the road. About two hundred yards up the road, Misty became birdy and then stretched out into a beautiful point, with Sunny backing. I walked quickly towards Misty but she did not move. I then made the mistake of looking on the ground to where Misty was pointing and saw the ruffie slowly walking away. For whatever reason, I have a tough time making the shot when I can see the bird on the ground. When the bird finally flushed, I missed it the first time but recovered on the second shot.

“Good girl, Misty!” I stated pleased as a peach as Sunny Girl made the retrieve.

At my shots, two other birds had flushed. One landed in a nearby tree and as I walked towards it, the bird flushed hard, but then juked up and to the right. I missed with the bottom barrel, but then corrected and took the bird with the top barrel. Misty chased down the winged bird and made a great retrieve.

A fine brace of Ruffies.

Later that rainy morning, Misty went on to point two more ruffed grouse—one at which I had no shot and the other at which I had a tough shot through thick timber—and a blue grouse, which Sunny Girl backed her on. I had only a fleeting snap shot at the blue grouse, but did not connect. If only my shooting had lived up to Misty’s stellar performance!

Misty was the star of the show. She had seven productive points.

By the time we hiked out of The Outhouse, I was soaked, despite my raincoat and chaps, and the rain continued to fall as I drove home.  There’s an old derogatory saying about someone not having enough sense to come in out of the rain. Before Saturday, I might have agreed with the saying, but now I’m not so sure.  This soggy Saturday morning was, by far, my most productive day of bird hunting this season and, at 4 years old, Misty hunted better than she ever has before. I’d brave the elements any time for a hunt like that.  What a day!

The fruits of a rainy hunt: One soggy blue grouse and two ruffies.

MEGA GROUSE OF THE SEAS OF SAGE

I love to hunt grouse, any kind of grouse.  For a grouse hunter such as myself, Idaho is a great state to live in with five different species namely: Ruffed Grouse, Dusky (Blue) Grouse, Sharp-tailed Grouse, Franklin Grouse, and last, but certainly not least, the Sage Grouse.

Although they sometimes overlap, each grouse has its own little niche of habitat in Idaho. Sage Grouse inhabit the once vast, but ever shrinking, seas of sage in the West’s high desert plains. Many passersby view these areas as ugly wastelands, but a sage grouse hunter knows better. While these deserts hide their secrets well, there is a primeval beauty to this landscape that only a few who willingly venture therein will ever know. And these areas hold North America’s biggest upland game bird regularly hunted with dogs and taken on the wing, the Sage Grouse. In Western Skies: Bird Hunting in the Rockies and on the Plains, John Barsness lovingly called them: “Pleistocene Mega Grouse too big for the now.”

Sage Phez.

I fear our days of hunting this grand game bird are quickly coming to an end. In Idaho, the season is now only seven days long with a one bird per day limit. With such a limited opportunity, many hunters have already given up on the pursuit. However, for those who love and respect this game bird, we will continue to hunt them as long as we can.

On the sage grouse opener in 2014, my dogs and I hunted with a former law partner, Aaron Tolson, and his son, David, and my good friend, Scott Johnson, and his sons, Brigham and Cole. Of this group, only Scott, Brigham and I had hunted sage grouse before. So the rest of the group did not know what to expect. A few weeks before the hunt, Scott Johnson had witnessed a large flock of sage grouse right on the road as he was heading to a fishing destination. He figured this was as good a place as any to try opening day. At the time, Scott said, “I don’t know how much longer we will be able to hunt these birds and I sure would like to see my boys take one before it’s too late.” Having lost access to my favorite sage grouse covert the previous year, I was up for trying something new.

We arrived at the area we planned to hunt at first light with a panorama of the Tetons to the east. We quickly crossed the barbwire fence, loaded our guns, and hunted eastward. The hunters all pushed through the sage in a line at about fifty feet intervals.  Scott had guided us well as my Brittany, Misty, bumped two grouse out of range in the first two minutes.

Scott Johnson and his sons, Brigham and Cole, get ready for the hunt.

My old, arthritic French Brittany, Sunny Girl, must have hurt herself coming out the back of Aaron’s truck as she limped more than usual. Notwithstanding her obvious pain, Sunny caught scent and slowly walked ahead of me and pointed a nice flock of sage grouse. When they flushed, many of the hunters (including myself) shot, with nothing to show for it. Another group soon got up and I again missed with both barrels. And people say these birds are easy targets! In less than ten minutes, we had seen more than twenty birds.

Sunny Girl. No dog ever loved the hunt more.

We continued to hunt eastward, but veered to the northeast because of the blinding sun light coming up directly from the east over the Tetons. Aaron and his son, David, pushed the far left side nearest to the road. As they walked, multiple flocks came up within range, but the newbies just could not connect. In their defense, sage grouse are often referred to as “Thunder Chickens” because of the ruckus they make when they get off the ground, which can sure be unnerving.

We pushed northeast for about a mile and a half and came into a large herd of cattle. I told everyone to steer clear of the cows and to avoid any shot near cows. A huge jumpy flock of sage grouse got up ahead of us at about 100 yards. We pushed toward this area hoping for a straggler or two, but saw no more grouse.

By this time, my French Brittany, Sunny Girl was really struggling to walk. I decided that she had hunted long enough and that I needed to get her back to the car. We made our way back to the road and the dogs and I took leave of the rest of the hunters.

At first, I planned to walk the road as quickly as possible to get Sunny back to the truck, but with the steady traffic along the road, I decided that this plan was too dangerous for the dogs. So I hopped the fence on the side of the road we had just hunted and the dogs and I pushed through the sage along the fence back to the truck. As we walked, I watched two grouse fly over the road toward where the rest of our group was hunting. I also soon spied a giant male grouse in a grassy opening in the sage. He let us get to within sixty yards before he flew away.  I was surprised to see this many birds on the side of the road we had already hunted.

Sunny Girl and the grouse she retrieved. I don’t think this old gal with be with us much longer, but she sure had a nice point on this hunt.

Only a minute later, Misty flushed a big grouse and it presented me with my very favorite shot–quartering left to right–which I made. Misty then went to the grouse and stood over it, but would not retrieve it. However, old Sunny Girl dove in and made a nice retrieve. Now that is a team effort! As it had been a few years since I hunted these grouse successfully, I was glad to hold this large cock bird in my hand. The dogs and I paused to take a few photos. I so wanted to continue hunting, but I had filled my limit. As I walked back to the truck I heard a few gun shots on the opposite side of the road. I hoped that someone else in the group had experienced success.

At four years old, Misty has become a pretty good bird dog.

Back at the truck, the dogs had a good drink and I took multiple photos of our beautiful bird. The other hunters soon showed up and I learned that young Brigham had taken his first sage grouse on the wing, which was a cause for celebration and more photos.

Brigham shows off his first sage grouse. Somehow that cowboy hat just works for sage grouse hunting.

We hunted for a while longer and Misty worked some grouse fairly well, but did not hold them as we hoped and they flushed just out of range. At around 11:00 a.m., the younger boys were ready to be done and Scott wanted to take his boys fishing. So we all decided to call it a morning. Everyone commented on how amazed they were at the number of birds we saw. Everyone had shot opportunities, although few were capitalized on. Regardless, everyone had a fun time.

The mighty hunters and Misty Girl

Sage grouse truly are a special bird. I feel sorry for those hunters who will never get the chance to hunt these ancient, gigantic birds of the high desert plains. They give us a reason to walk the lonely, but beautiful, seas of sage. Should we ever lose these precious birds, our world will be a little poorer, especially for this grouse hunter.

Images From Grouse Camp

Spent four glorious days in northern Colorado this past weekend chasing grouse with bird dogs. Bret…my partner in cahoots…traveled from McPherson Kansas with four setters and the fixings for a mystical weekend in God’s grouse country. Grouse we did find…including Bret’s first sage grouse and my first Colorado mountain sharptailed grouse. Here are some images from grouse camp…setter feathers…

TOM DAVIS’ “THE GREAT AMERICAN BIRD HUNT” IN FIELD & STREAM

Last October, Brother Shawn and I had the opportunity to take author, Tom Davis, and photographer John Loomis along with us for our week-long hunt in the Idaho uplands.  Tom and John were on assignment from Field & Stream.  Unlike years past, the hunting was pretty tough, but we did have some stellar moments where we found  a few birds.  I’ve shared a few photos and experiences from the hunt in my posts, Who is the Best Writer on Grouse Hunting? and Tom Davis’ “Book Learnin” and Other Odds and Ends if any are interested.

The October 2014 issue of Field & Stream

With the hunting being as tough as it was last year, Shawn and I were interested to see what Tom Davis had to say about his Idaho hunt.  Well, yesterday I went to the local supermarket and bought a copy of the October issue of Field & Stream and I am happy (and relieved) to report that Tom’s article turned out awesome and John’s photos are simply beautiful (and you even get to see mine and Misty’s ugly mugs a few times).

The first page of the article contains a two page spread of my most favorite covert in the whole world, The Royal Macnab.

In my humble opinion, Tom Davis is one of the best living writers on upland hunting.  And he happens to be a good hunter with an excellent English Setter, Tina and a good guy to boot.  I’m honestly glad the Wayment Brothers got to hunt with him.

Tom Davis holds the moose shed that he found in one of my favorite coverts, Grouse Rock.

Even though the hunting was tough, our good friend Sterling Monroe–who was with us for the week of hunting–helped us put things in perspective when he said, “It’s just another birdless day in paradise.”  His simple statement really brought home that every day afield with our bird dogs should be treasured and the birds are just the bonus.

I got a text yesterday from Brother Shawn that our annual weeklong hunt in Idaho is less than sixteen days away.  Shawn and I have talked since then and we have decided that this year’s hunt will be an Upland Celebration regardless of how many birds we find.  And you can rest assured that we will be eating tacos regularly, if not daily!  Can’t wait brother!

How to Get the Most Out of Your Veteran Gun Dog by Tom Davis

http://www.fieldandstream.com/articles/hunting/2014/07/how-to-get-the-most-out-of-your-veteran-gun-dog

Colorado Blue Grouse

The Colorado dusky grouse season opened on Labor Day this year…getting out of the I-70 parking lot is an absolute nightmare as there are hordes and hordes of people in mass exodus from the mountains. I decided not to brave the crowds and waited until the following Thursday to chase grouse with the birddogs. I was fortunate to go grouse’n with a true and distinguished voting member of the Blue Grouse Hippy Clan. Kent hunted blue grouse 13 weekends in a row during the 2013 season, and the last day of the season he was in deep snow. That’s pure dedication or insanity. Blue grouse are a reverse migrator, and they spend their winter at the treeline eating pine needles.

Kent and I had been exchanging emails for some time and decided to sneak away from work for the day and run our bird dogs. Kent is a dyed-in-the-wool-Labrador-guy…he recently acquired a very nice 10 month old English pointer pup by the name of Fancy. Fancy she was & a joy to watch as the switch flipped on the grouse lights. The cover is great in grouse country although the seviceberries were limited in the areas we haunted. The weather, dogs and company were perfect.

Saturday the 6th of September was spent with my very good friend and partner in crime, Mark Kastler. Mark and I have been hunting together for 10 years or more. It was a pleasure to spend the morning with Mark. There were plenty of grouse, and we were finished by 10 am. There’s not much better than a lunch in the shade of aspens after a glorious morning of chasing grouse.

Enjoy the season and praise the All Mighty that we’ve made it to another birddog season!

Setterfeathers and see ya on the Colorado prairie