Andrew Marshall Wayment's Blog, page 2

THE LOST GUN

They say that time heals all wounds.  It has been almost six years, but this is still a tough one to write down.  Back in 2008, my brother Shawn gave me a 20 Gauge Ruger Red Label before the start of our annual week in Idaho’s uplands.  At the time, the over and under was by far the best shotgun I had ever owned.

I vividly recall the first bird, a sharptail, that I took with the gun at the Royal Macnab when the birds flushed at the base of one of the many rolling hills on the property.  That day, Rainey and I took our limit of two sharptails, but after that came my longest shooting slump ever. 

Andy poses with his first sharptail ever taken with the RRL 20.

You see, the gun did not fit me at all; it was too short.  I had to aim way high to connect.  After a few years of hit and (mostly) miss, my good friend Cliff, helped me put a plastic extender above the butt pad and thereafter, my shooting improved greatly. 

The Ruger Red Label and a red-phased ruff.

The Red Label served me well for five or six years, despite some scars from hard hunting.  The gun’s grip cracked when I slipped on a steep rocky incline while looking for a downed blue grouse and the gun bounced noisily down the rockslide.  Upon inspection, the gun was still fully operational and I planned to replace the stock when the crack became too severe over time.

As a grouse hunter, I succumbed for a time to the traditional American side by sides, and turned my focus toward them for a few years.  First, there was the Ithaca NID 20 ga. and later the Fox Sterlingworth 16 that held my affections for a while.  After I missed numerous birds with the NID, I always gravitated back to the Ruger and realized, once again, that I could hit birds.  The Red Label was my old reliable gun that I secretly preferred over the side by sides.

The Ol’ Red and a late season grouse.

And then the dreaded day came in September of 2016.  Earlier that year, my son, Thomas obtained his hunter’s safety and I was eager to get him into the grouse woods for his first hunt.  My father taught me in my youth that when you take kids hunting and fishing you have to get them treats.  A favorite for the Wayment family has always been root beer.  Keeping with tradition, I bought Tom some treats and an A&W Rootbeer that he placed in the back of the Filson gamebag he wore. 

That morning, I opted to use the Ithaca NID and let Tom hunt with the Ruger Red Label.  We hunted with my friend, Josh May, and his awesome brittanys, in one of his grouse coverts in Southeast Idaho.  The foilage of the quaking aspens and the chokecherries was just starting to turn and the sky was clear and blue, a beautiful day to be in the grouse woods.  The dogs found numerous grouse, but the cover was still thick and we didn’t get many shots. 

Tom seemed more interested in sipping on his rootbeer than he was in hunting grouse.   With kids, you have to take numerous breaks, especially when the temperatures started to rise.  On one of these numerous breaks, Tom set the Ruger down to access and drink the rootbeer. Not used to carrying a gun, he left it sitting somewhere in the grouse woods and walked off without it.  Awhile later, I noticed he was not carrying a gun.

Honestly, I about blew a gasket when I realized it was missing.  We rushed in frenzy to retrace our steps, but could not find the Ruger.  Realizing that my anger could ruin our relationship, let alone sour Tom to the outdoors forever, I reigned in the anger and patiently continued to search, but try as we may, we could not find the lost gun. 

After the hunt, we came up with the idea to retrace our steps with the GPS coordinates from all of the photos we had taken that day and from the GPS information from the Garmin units that Josh’s dogs wore.  With this information, later that same afternoon, Josh and his family traversed the woods and retraced our steps best as they could, but still came up short. 

Having started a new business the year earlier, I did not have the funds to replace the Red Label.  I unrealistically felt doomed to poor shooting with the Ithaca NID for the rest of my life.  When dealing with clients in contentious divorces, I have often told them: “Stuff is just stuff and it is not worth fighting or getting upset over.”  On this day, I had to follow my own advice. To try and ease the blow, Tom and I stopped at a taqueria in Chubbuck for lunch on the way home.  I wanted Tom to know that I still loved him and that he was more important to me than the lost gun.  It’s been said that it’s hard to not have a smile on your face when your eating a taco, and admittedly the food made me feel a little better about life on this tough day.  

After this experience, I contemplated writing something on the blog to try to locate the gun, but there were some complicating factors that dissuaded me: The first being that if I wrote where the gun was lost, I would be exposing a friend’s treasured grouse covert, and the second being that I did not want to make my son feel bad about losing the gun in the first place.  Not knowing how to do this without getting over those hurdles, I reluctantly decided to let it go. 

However, I still wonder if some lucky individual stumbled across the gun while out hiking or bow hunting and Ol’ Red found its way into another hunter’s heart.  For those who have read Nash Buckingham’s work, they have undoubtedly heard of his lost side by side duck gun, “Bo Whoop,” which he mourned the loss of in writing.  Recently, we found out that the lost gun had, in fact, been found and was owned by another until it resurfaced for sale decades later.  Somehow, that possibility for the Red Label feels better to me than the thought of it rusting away in the grouse woods. 

Since that time, my financial situation has improved and I have all-but turned away from the side by sides.  I now own the Ruger Red Label in 12 and 28 gauge and I love them both.  I have shot better with the 12 than any other gun I’ve owned.  Despite my good fortune, I still wish I had the old reliable 20.  Then my collection would be complete.  A guy can dream, can’t he?

Nothing gold can stay: The author, the Ol’ Red and Sunny and Misty.

With that said, I currently have a good relationship with my son that I would not trade for love, money, or even a treasured shot gun.  I’m glad I realized that my relationship with him was more important.  That, my friends, is the real moral of this story. 

      

I chose the better part: Andy and Tom on an epic fly-fishing adventure to Alaska in August of 2021.

   

THE MAKINGS OF A GROUSE DOG

“Ruffed grouse dogs are bred, not born, and once born they are developed, not made.”

–George Bird Evans,  An Affair with Grouse

Author’s Note: I wrote this story clear back in 2018, Rainey’s second season of hunting. It was accepted for publication in a prominent bird dog magazine and then the magazine editor retired and it fell through the cracks. I tried to get it published elsewhere and it never found a home. So, I am sharing it with all of you. Hope you enjoy it. I am happy to report that Rainey, who is almost 5, has turned into a phenomenal grouse dog in every sense of the word (although we still need to work on her retrieving!)

With every puppy taken home, grouse hunters hope that they will raise a bona fide “grouse dog” in every sense of the term.  My American Brittany, Misty, developed into one of the finest grouse dogs I have ever seen and I was blessed to have her for seven hunting seasons. 

In 2017, after unexpectedly losing Misty in the spring, I decided to get pup out of TopperLyn Kennels in Stevensville, Montana, a breeder of Epagnuel Bretons (French Brittanys to the lay person).  My friend Grayson, a gun dog trainer from North Carolina, told me that his dog, Ella, out of this same kennel was the “dog of a lifetime.”  That sealed the deal for me. 

Rainey Creek Ruff at four weeks old. Notice the intelligence in her eyes.

My pup’s mom is Fanny vom Falkenhof, out of a German kennel and her dad is TopperLyn Marco from Topperlyn Kennels.  We picked up TopperLyn Rainey Creek Ruff, or “Rainey,” in June of 2017.  She had a wonderful first hunting season with numerous finds, points, and a few retrieves of Huns, sharptails, ruffed grouse, blue grouse, and even a pheasant.  After such a good start, I was pretty excited for her future prospects.  But the question remained whether she would become a “grouse dog,” which was my main hope for her.  

Rainey and a Hun from her first season.

During the Spring of 2018, as Rainey and I hiked together, Rainey happened to find a ruffed grouse and she got so excited that she pursued the fleeing bird while barking a high-pitched yip.  I took this as just sheer excitement on her part, which I got a kick out of. When I shared this experience on social media, a friend told me that in Germany this barking pursuit of prey is called “going laut” and is rewarded in field trials. “Laut,” in German, means loud, noisy or loudmouthed.  Since I’ve never seen this behavior in any of my American-bred dogs, I assume Rainey got this trait from her German mother, Fanny. 

The start of the 2018 hunting season was just plain tough.  I hunted Rainey three times within the first week and we struggled to find birds.  On the first day, as we walked a covert I named the “Outhouse,” my friend Scott Johnson’s yellow Lab, Ruger kicked up a blue grouse, which Scott connected on and Ruger retrieved almost as soon as it hit the ground.  Rainey was nowhere near the action. Though we hunted pretty far up the canyon, we did not see any other ruffs or blues.    

As we made our way back down the creek bottom, Rainey stopped at a thick swampy area of the creek.  Since she literally points everything including butterflies, grasshoppers, chipmunks, and Tweety birds, I doubted that she was on a bird, especially given the fact that we had hunted up this creek bottom when we started and saw no bird earlier.  To my surprise, a grouse (I’m not sure if it was a blue or a ruff) blew out of the tangle with a laut-ing Rainey in hot pursuit.  My lack of faith in my dog cost me a prime chance at a grouse.  The other two hunts we found only a few birds with no good opportunities. 

On Wednesday, September 5, 2018, I worked a full day and then hustled home to meet up with my brother Jake for a quick evening grouse hunt.  Since Jake was with me at the Outhouse when the cover got its name, hunting there seemed like the obvious choice.  Besides, I hoped to find that same grouse that gave me the slip opening day. 

After parking, Jake and I hunted up the little two track leading into the narrow valley, surrounded by thick quakies and chokecherries on both sides.  We hadn’t walked fifty yards before Rainey ran up into the thick cover on the left-hand side of the road and stopped. 

“Rainey is on point,” said Jake.

“That dog points every dang thing!” I responded doubtingly. “She’s probably just dinking around!”  

“I think she is on a bird . . . What’s that right there?” Jake replied while pointing at a ruffed grouse on the ground in the thick cover. 

“That is a ruffed grouse!” I exclaimed.  Rainey had solidly pointed a ruffed grouse for the first time. 

Rainey points a ruffed grouse in the thicket.

As I tried to maneuver the thick cover to get into position for a shot, multiple birds starting busting out of the cover in all directions.  All said, there were five or so birds in that covey and Rainey had four or five points on these birds, but I had no shots in the thick cover.  Still, I was ecstatic about her performance.  It was like a light switch turned on.

Rainey locked up on ruffed grouse. Though this is a crappy photo, you can see the grouse if you look closely.

“Brother, Rainey is going to be an awesome dog.  I really like her personality and the way she hunts!”  Jake praised. 

“She may make a grouse dog, after all!” I acquiesced. 

We continued to work our way up the narrow valley to the sage flat, surrounded by quakies, where Misty first found blue grouse back in 2012.  I pointed out to Jake where Misty is buried and we both commented on what a great grouse dog she was. 

“Wish Misty was here to show this pup how it’s done,” I said longingly “Misty was the best dog I ever had.”    

“Rainey is already getting it, brother” Jake pointed out.  “She just found and pointed all those grouse.”

“Yes, that’s true.” I had to admit.      

About seventy-five yards up the road, I jumped the creek while Jake stayed on the road as we approached the big service berry thicket that straddles the creek.  Blues and ruffies both love this thicket and we regularly find birds here.  I fully expected a blue or a ruff to come out of the thicket, but we had no action, even though Rainey worked the cover thoroughly.  Above the service berry thicket, is a grassy opening in the creek bottom, and right above this opening the creek bottom is aligned with thick chokecherries.  Rainey worked her way across the opening into the chokecherries and grouse started flushing everywhere.  I made a solid shot on one as it tried to cross the creek.  Rainey promptly picked it up, ran away from me, and dropped it in the creek bottom.  Little turd!  I had to go into the thicket to retrieve my own grouse while birds flushed around me.  I need to work with Rainey on retrieving to hand.    

After taking a few pictures, we worked up to the covert’s namesake, the actual outhouse, and had to get a few photos with Rainey’s first outhouse grouse.  We then worked all the way up to the top of the canyon without moving another bird.

With all the birds flushed earlier in the bottom of the draw, I suspected that we’d see one or two on our way back to the car.  And we did in the last chokecherry thicket along the two track.  This bird was more mature than my first one and maneuvering through this cover would be tough, let alone getting off a shot.  I saw an opening where I might be able to have a window, so I worked my way up the hill into the thicket and called Rainey in to get up the grouse.  She jumped into the cover and flushed the bird along the thicket’s upper edge.  I got on it quick, but by the time I pulled the trigger, my sight of the bird was completely covered by thick foliage.  Notwithstanding, the shot felt good, so I climbed above the thicket and kept my eye on the ground.  About fifteen more yards along the thicket’s edge, I spied what looked like a downed grouse on the ground.  When I inspected further, I realized that my eyes had not deceived me. 

A beautiful ruffed grouse from the Outhouse.

“YES!!!! WOOHOO!! Good job, Rainey!” I praised.   Rainey had flushed the grouse in such a way that I had a perfect—albeit obscured—shot through the timber.  That was teamwork at its finest.

On the way home, I commented to Jake, “Rainey became a grouse dog tonight.” 

“She sure did.” Jake agreed. 

Rainey has become a grouse dog extraordinaire. My three best years of grouse hunting have been the last three years. And she is not even five yet!

It’s been said that it takes grouse to make a grouse dog and I know that is true to a large extent.  But, after twenty years of grouse hunting, I am also convinced that much of a dog’s ability to chase ruffed grouse successfully comes from breeding.  With a little work, patience and bird exposure, I believe Rainey has it in her to be a great grouse dog. 

    

Misty Magic

“If there are no dogs in Heaven, then when I die I want to go where they went.” –Will Rogers

Misty was a grouse dog extraordinaire. I love and miss her .

If any of you have read my book or followed me on social media, you may recall that my American Brittany, Misty Morning Sunshine (“Misty”) passed away unexpectedly in March of 2017. That was a tough loss for sure as she was one of the best grouse dogs I have ever hunted behind. I buried her in one of my coverts that I call “the Outhouse” where she first found blue grouse and it quickly became one of our most productive spots. We had a lot of fun days together there. I carved a big “M” on the tree nearest to her grave. Every time I’m up there, I stop and pay a moment of respect and leave her a few feathers from our hunts.

“M” marks the spot.

To fill the void in my heart and family, we picked up Rainey Creek Ruff (“Rainey”), a French Brittany in June of 2017. She has been a phenomenal dog from day one and, like Misty, she has come to specialize on ruffed grouse. Last year, she gave me my best season ever on ruffies.

This year started off pretty good with birds bagged, but I fell into a little of a shooting slump the last few hunts (which I know won’t surprise anyone who has read my book . . . lol!). On Friday, September 17th, I left work at noon and picked up my 9 year old son Ben. My wife and the girls were out of town, so we went for tacos at the local taco bus, picked up some treats at Maverick, and listened to good tunes as we headed up to Grouseketeer Ridge. I had that feeling that it was going to be a good day in the grouse woods.

Rainey pointed a ruff not fifty yards from the car, but I could not see it sufficiently to get off a shot. She found some blues up past the forks and she gave me an easy chip shot that I missed twice. I call those missed opportunities “groaners” for obvious reasons. We hunted up to Dusty’s Nub, the high point above timber, and moved no more grouse, but I pointed out to Ben where Misty had found three blue grouse a few years back and gave me a nice shot and retrieve. When I walk my old coverts, I can’t help but think about my bird dogs who have passed on. They are always close to my heart.

Ben and I take a break on Windy Ridge. I have been filming some of my hunts on the GoPro and hope to share some videos soon.

After a short break on Windy Ridge, we headed back to Grouseketeer Ridge and Rainey found and pointed two blue grouse in an alder thicket, but I had no shot in the thick timber. I felt a little discouraged by earlier blowing my best opportunity, but the hunt wasn’t over yet.

“Benny, let’s drive down to the Outhouse and see if we can find a few birds down there. We can stop and visit Misty’s grave while we are up there.” I suggested.

“Okay dad,” he responded.

Ben and I hunted up the narrow valley leading to the Outhouse, but we moved not a single bird. I knew that meant we’d have to hike all the way up to the Top Shelf, which is another mile up the canyon after it forks to the left. On the way, Ben complained a little about sore feet, but I told him we were almost to the sweet spot, a chokecherry thicket next to a small spring. Sure enough, Rainey immediately found birds. She pointed a few that flushed into trees and I got off a shot on one that flushed hard, but missed. Benny was ready to call it quits, but I plead with him to go just a bit farther so we could reach the Top Shelf. I fully expected there to be some birds up there.

Fifty yards up the trail, we reached the Top Shelf and Rainey bumped a blue grouse and I gave it the two-barrel salute. I scolded Rainey and told her to “Stop bumping birds!” I had to give that same lecture to Misty a few years back. Rainey listened and she soon pointed a ruffed grouse that held nicely in a chokecherry cluster, but presented no shot.

She went a few yards up to another thicket and pinned another grouse between herself and me. When the bird flushed, I swung hard, tugged the trigger, and the bird dropped back into the thicket. Rainey made a retrieve. Notice I didn’t say “nice retrieve” because she denuded the bird of all of its tailfeathers and did not bring it to hand. However, I was not bummed at all because I had just got the slump monkey off my back.

Benny films me photographing him holding my ruffed grouse.

Rainey’s grouse from the Top Shelf. Rainey has become a wonderful grouse dog in her own right. Last year we had my best year ever on grouse thanks to her prowess.

With one bird in the bag, I told Ben we could head back to the car and assured him it was all downhill from there. As we headed down, Rainey found a ruffed grouse that blew past me faster than any ruff I have ever seen. I missed it twice as I spun on my heels to get off my shots. Honestly, I did not feel one bit of shame for missing that fiery comet. You have to respect them as they will burn your biscuits!

“Let’s stop and leave a few feathers for Misty.” I suggested as we hiked back down toward the Outhouse. “Okay Dad, that sounds like a good idea,” Ben responded.

Rainey continued to hunt as we made our way downhill and as we approached Misty’s grave, Rainey’s bell suddenly went silent in the quakies to the right of the trail. Before I could turn toward her, a mature ruff ripped out of the cover and barreled directly toward Misty’s grave. I instinctually raised the gun and snapped off a shot dropping the bird not four feet from Misty’s grave.

I don’t know about you, but I don’t believe this was a coincidence. I think this was a little love from Misty on the other side. During her life, Misty had this uncanny ability to make grouse flush to give me a good shot. For the most part, Rainey had been pointing birds all afternoon and I was getting no shots–or tough shots–in thick timber. Maybe Rainey was channeling Misty at that moment because this bird flushed, giving me the perfect fleeting shot.

This ruffed grouse is posed on Misty’s grave, only four feet from where it fell. Notice the blue grouse tailfeathers we left on the opener a few weeks earlier. Of course, we left a few tailfeathers from this beautiful male ruff.

Ben and I stopped to pay our love and respects to Misty at her final resting place. Of course, we thanked her for helping us get this awesome ruff to end off the day.

Ben sits on Misty’s grave as we tell her about taking this big male ruff.

Every time we go into the grouse woods, we hope for special things to occur: A stellar point, a plethora of birds, or a few good shots. But sometimes something truly magical happens. This was one of those times. Thanks Misty!

Classic Boots & Classic Doubles: Gokey Legend

The heydays of the classic American double guns began at the end of the 1800’s and went into the 1900’s until about the start of WWII. Such renowned company’s the likes of Parker Brothers, Lefever Arms Company, L. C. Smith Shotgun Company, Ithaca Gun Company and The Three-Barreled Gun Company. John Moses Browning’s last patent the Superposed came onto the scene in 1931. Classics, the likes we’ll never see again in the day of autoloaders and non-toxic shot.

Winchester Model 21 16 bore and Gokey Boyt/Sauvage Oxford

Another American company was already on the upland scene during those heydays…crafting leather boots worn by upland gunners and market-hunters during banner years of grouse and woodcock. The Gokey Company established in circa 1850 has been making their handmade boots and shoes for over 170 years. 170 years of unmatched leather craftsmanship…No any other company out there that can claim such a feat.

Gokey Boyts in Mearn’s quail country

I’ve been a huge fan of their boots for many years…they are the most gorgeous and comfortable boots right out of the box. I’ve worn boots from all of their competitors but nothing compares to their craftsmanship, quality, comfort and durability. I’ve worn my Gokey Boyts in rim-rock steep Idaho chukar country and on the cholla-choked shortgrass prairies of Colorado to the rugged-rocky draws of Arizona’s Mearn’s quail country. Flawless performance and never a blister or sore spot on my feet.

Gokey Boyts and circa 1888 Parker 16 bore hammer gun with Damascus barrels

Gokey was recently purchased by the Boyt Harness Company which is a Nimrods-match-made-in-heaven. The Boyt Harness Company has a large inventory of upland goods for the gunner and his bird dogs. Gokey has their own line of quality bird dog and gun accessories.

The Three-Barreled Gun Company 12 bore with Damascus barrels and Andrew Wayment’s great grouse book

One thing I love about Gokey is their top notch customer service. They are friendly and very good at answering questions and will even fix your boots if they need to be stretched for better fitting or if they are in need of a repair. I’ve had my original Gokey’s re-soled that I bought from the Orvis Company. Gokey has fast, free shipping to the lower 48 states. Become a Gokey Legend and get a pair this summer for the up coming upland season…use code BIRDDOGDOC15 and get 15% off your next pair of upland boots or classic shoes.

A.b. Frost

The upland season isn’t far away. The Arkansas edges are about to clear and it’s the season for chucking big ugly flies to hungry browns stacked on the edges. Few trips here and there and then it’s that season we all live for…Upland gunning.

Setter Feathers…

Idaho sharp-tailed grouse and a Parker hammer 16 bore

A Little Love for the Portneuf River

With the help of my son, Thomas, I have jumped into the world of YouTube. My channel is “Renegades and Ruffs” (which is named after my favorite dry fly and my favorite game bird). For his senior project, Thomas made the attached video, “A Little Love for the Portneuf River” with the help of Matt Lucia, the Executive Director of the Sagebrush Steppe Land Trust, about the conservation efforts on this beloved river where I cut my teeth fly fishing over 20 years ago. Much has changed for the better!

I hope you followers of the blog will go take a look, like and subscribe!

My first YouTube Video about conservation and fishing on the Portneuf River

Hopefully, this will be the start of good things to come. A friend and I are working on a carp fishing video. Thanks for dropping by!

FORSAKEN WATERS

Some consider Southeastern Idaho as the trout Mecca of the West. You can watch a thousand YouTube videos covering fishing on the fabled rivers of Eastern Idaho. For someone seeking solitude and big fish, however, Idaho rivers seem overrun with more anglers and boats than fish, especially during the famous hatches.

This makes adventurers like myself and, my good friend, Matt Lucia, want to seek out less pressured waters, or even waters that some may consider as forsaken. Take for example the Bear River, which is arguably the most degraded river in Southeastern Idaho, a place where no self-respecting angler would go to for quality fishing. In his book, Idaho Blue-Ribbon Fly Fishing Guide, John Shewey said of the Bear River: “The Bear River is a stream that has long been used for the needs of agriculture with little regard for anything else.” As you travel the length of the Bear River, this statement pretty much sums up what most people see: A silty, degraded river that is better suited for trash fish than trophy trout. But, as the saying goes, “One man’s trash is another man’s treasure.”

Matt Lucia and I grew up along the banks of the Bear River and learned to love the river and all that it has to offer at a young age. We both passionately work in the area of conservation for the Sagebrush Steppe Land Trust of Pocatello, Idaho: Matt, as the Executive Director, and me, as the attorney for the land trust. The land trust covers the Bear River region of southeastern Idaho and one of its main objectives is to protect and restore the Bear River. There is so much to do, but it is a labor of love, for sure.

While you can catch trout in various stretches of the Bear River, many stretches mostly hold a healthy population of common carp, which many consider to be nothing but trash fish. Admittedly, carp do thrive in degraded waters and they can have a negative impact on the environment. However, they can be tremendously fun on the fly. On a float early last summer, we targeted trout and smallmouth bass in the upper stretches and had some success, but further downstream we began to see many tailing carp and they became our focus. We found them to be super challenging and addicting.

A nice Bear River Rainbow that took a Clouser

This led us to plan other adventures upriver. We decided to float rarely-touched stretches of the Bear River by raft, but knew we would find no guide books for such an endeavor. On our first outing near Dingle, Idaho, we put in at a public access point not far from the Wyoming border, which is no boat launch, by any means. The truth is, there are none on this stretch of river because it is not a destination water. We had to navigate this river, the put-in, the obstructions, and the take-out solely based upon online scouting via Google Earth.

This was a huge diversion that we had to portgage around.

Like true adventurers, we took on this trip not knowing what exactly we would find on this forsaken water. What we found, however, was beauty, fun, sometimes treacherous places where we had to portage, and most importantly, hungry carp that were willing to eat a fly.

The river was high and off color and on the main stem we found only one carp willing to play. I spied the first fish near the bank rooting around like a water pig and when I cast the black and red leech in front of his face, he sucked it in.

Matt pulled over and I landed the first fish from the bank. The grin says it all.

But the excellent fishing came when we found a channel into a cattail slough with clear water and tons of hungry carp.  Matt paddled me around the slough where we stalked these Golden Bones with great success.  This cattail slough made the trip for us and made the long portage of the raft at the take out totally worth it. 

Cattail Slough Carp.

Our next adventure was during the first part of July downstream near Ovid, Idaho.  We talked my brother, Shawn Wayment, into joining the dark side and coming carp fishing with us. 

Brothers from other mothers.

While still off color, the river had dropped some and we found numerous carp eating in the grassy flats along the river.  We found these fish to be very cooperative.  One even came out of the water to eat my leech pattern. 

Bear River Carp love this fly.

We even got Shawn into his first carp, when we heard a carp slurping right next to the bank. Shawn resisted trout setting and hooked into easily a 10 pounder. 

Come over to the dark side, brother! Shawn may make a carp fisherman yet . . . that is, if he can ever learn how to hold them properly!

The bottom line is that we found beauty, solitude, fun, and big challenging fish on all of our outings to this forsaken water. We will be back for more this year. 

I share this blog to help others understand that the Bear River is worth experiencing and it is definitely worth saving.  You cannot love what you don’t know, and most people will not save what they do not love. We are raising the conservation banner for the Bear River and request that others get behind saving it.      

GunDog Central Article & Coronavirus in Pets Update

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The world today is nuckingfuts! This isn’t a political blog, but I’ve been thoroughly entertained with the primaries. Being a smooth-bore fanatic, I tend to vote for the people who support our second Amendment Constitutional rights.

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Enough on that subject.

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Below are a couple links. The first is a GunDog Central article I recently wrote Gun Dog Central Article and the other is a piece on my work website about the Coronavirus in companion animals

Soon it’ll be time to throw dries at rising trout and time to chase gobbling turkeys in my beloved Sangre de Cristos.

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Setter Feathers

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Gundog Central Laceration Repair in the Field Article

Laceration Repair in the Field

Canine Osteoarthritis Sporting Classics Daily Article

So far this has been a great season. My young setter Cinder is finally catching on to the game and has made some spectacular points while we were in New Mexico scaled quail hunting. Below are some photos from this season this far.

I recently wrote an article for Sporting Classics Daily online about Canine Osteoarthritis. Please click on the link below to see the article.

Happy Thanksgiving to all. Enjoy your bird dogs afield and be safe.

Setter Feather…

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Sporting Classics Daily Canine Osteoarthritis

OnX Maps Blog Post

[image error]Birddogdoc & Grouse River Gretchen

I recently wrote a blog post for OnX Hunt Maps on bird dog emergency field care. The piece can be found here OnX Hunt Maps Blog. The OnX Hunt Maps App is the most useful application that I have on my phone when it comes to chasing my bird dogs. I use their app daily…it’s very helpful when scouting from my computer when I’m looking for new places to chase scaled quail.

Grouse season is around the corner. Be sure to properly condition yourselves and your dogs. Good Hunting!

Setter Feathers