Andrew Marshall Wayment's Blog, page 20

STILL HEAVEN ON EARTH

AUTHOR’S NOTE:  “Still Heaven on Earth” is a chapter from my new book, The River of God, which is soon to be published.  This chapter is about a few days spent in July of 2012 on the Madison River, which river has become sacred to me.  Maybe you can relate.

STILL HEAVEN ON EARTH

By Andrew M. Wayment

On July 3, 2002, my wife and I lost our unborn baby girl when Kristin was seven months pregnant.  The days that followed were some of the darkest of my life.  Fortunately, the following week my family went on vacation to the Madison River Valley in Montana.  To sum it up, this was—by far—the best week of fishing I have ever experienced in my life. But more importantly, during the whole week I felt the overwhelming love of God in this unparalleled place and the experience had a tremendous healing effect upon me.  I went on to write the story, “Heaven on Earth,” about this sacred experience, which is featured in my first book, Heaven on Earth: Stories of Fly Fishing: Fun & Faith.  Here is the link to the book’s website: www.heavenonearthbook.com.

Since that time, the Madison River has held a special place in my heart and, over the years, I have returned numerous times in hopes of experiencing again the river’s sheer beauty, its bounties, and the feelings that touched my soul during that blessed week.  While I have never spent a wasted day on the Madison River, the fishing has never quite lived up to that occasion.

Ten years after this special experience, my family rented my Uncle Don’s cabin in Island Park during the second week of July of 2012,  Of course, I planned another pilgrimage to this Mecca.  Following are my journal entries for the two mornings that I spent on the Madison River:

Monday, July 9, 2012.

4:50 am rolled around so quickly.  While I felt like I had not slept at all, I still was super excited to travel over the Continental Divide to the Madison River.  As always, the mist rising off the river at first light appeared simply celestial.  Every time I see this valley and its natural beauty, I can’t help but feel grateful.

Below $3.00 Bridge at First Light

After parking near the famous $3.00 Bridge, I hiked downstream to where the river divides around a small island.  The river was definitely not as high as it was in 2002, but still, there were plenty of pockets and runs not far from the bank.  I fished for five minutes before I hooked my first fish, a seventeen-inch brown, which I landed, and took a picture. I worked my way up river and hooked another small brown that promptly got off.

Nice Madison River Brown Trout

Below the bridge is some excellent holding water where I have hooked numerous fish in the past.  The fishing was slower than in 2002, but still decent.  I believe I missed the Salmon Fly hatch by a week or so.  The empty husks were not as evident on the rocks or willows as before.  In a long run I hooked a nice fish that promptly busted me off.  That’s what I get for fishing with 5x Tippet on this brawling river, which brings up a new proverb: “A fool and his tippet are soon parted.”

As I had in 2002, I fished on of Rich Osthoff’s Woolly Worms, which I tied with a tungsten bead head to get it down quickly, but I did not get one single bite on that fly.  All takers were on the smaller dropper, a tungsten bead-head Pheasant Tail, which departed with my tippet.

Above the bridge, as the sun rose over the Madison Range to the east, tears welled up in my eyes as I reflected on my sacred experience fishing this exact stretch ten years before.  This heavenly scene always evokes within me feelings and memories that I treasure.  I hooked a nice brownie by the first big rock in the exact same place I caught a fish years before.  This fish also got off.

Though I fished hard, I did not catch any other big fish, only a few skippies, on this reach of river that had been so good to me in the past.  This certainly was not the quality of fishing I’d had ten years earlier, but I am convinced I had a little help back then.  Notwithstanding, just to be at this special place stirred my soul.

After fishing at $3.00 Bridge, I made the obligatory stop at Kelly Galloup’s Slide Inn and bought two of his signature streamers, a Barely Legal, and a Silk Kitty, and—learning  from my earlier failure—some 4x tippet.  While there, I heard Kelly Galloup say to some other customers, “The river is fishing great.  If you can’t catch a fish, let’s just say it’s not the fishes’ fault.”  I then wondered if my morning was indicative of my skills as a fisherman.

Based upon a tip from a guy from Henry’s Fork Angler, I decided to try the short stretch of the Madison between Hebgen and Quake Lakes, which I had also first fished that grand week ten years earlier.  I heard a person once describe this majestic valley as “The Land Before Time.”  Indeed, this valley is pretty dang spectacular and has that primordial feel sans man-eating dinosaurs.  Nevertheless, the reports of grizzlies in the area always spook me a little.

The Land Before Time

After I parked in a pull-out near the river, I immediately observed both Giant Salmon and Golden Stoneflies in the willows along the river and my heart thumped as I contemplated my prospects.  It was like the stars had all aligned for me once again, but I only had two hours to fish.  With the big bugs everywhere, I decided—based upon the lay of the river—to try a hopper dropper combo, the lead fly being an M.C. Hammer and the point being a little golden stonefly with rubber legs.  I fished up through the rocky pools and hooked a few whiteys.  The river in this particular stretch does not contain as much good holding water for big trout as $3.00 Bridge.

Trout Candy

I soon worked up to a fishy-looking log jam with calmer water below.  I easily waded across the river to get below the obstruction and quickly observed the ring of a rise in the slight current flowing from beneath the jam.  I cast above it so that the fly could drift into position.  A large fish readily rose and sucked in the M.C. Hammer.  After setting the hook, my new 4x tippet held and I landed a beautiful seventeen-inch rainbow.  I also cast to another likely looking spot and a second fish took the dropper.  Two big rainbows back to back changed a decent day to a stellar success.  I climbed upon onto the log jam and fished a sweet foam line, but had no takers.

Big Trout on a Dry Fly

Soon it was time to head for West Yellowstone to meet my wife, kids, and our good friends, Cliff and Sue Warmoth.  I was sad to leave this blessed river, but glad for the opportunity to fish again the following morning.

Tuesday, July 10, 2012.

I woke up a 4:30 a.m. and traveled back over Raynold’s Pass and up to the Land Before Time with high hopes for the day.  After parking, I again looked into the willows by the road, but did not see the stoneflies as I had before; although, there were still a few around.  First thing, I fished the same log jam with no strikes, but caught a huge whitey in the foam pool above the logs.

I then drove down to the end of the road and parked at the parking lot.  Seeing this particular stretch of river again brought back memories of fishing this area with my brother-in-law, Eric Bailey, ten years earlier, when we both experienced tremendous success.  I fished my way down toward the head of Quake Lake, which in the early morning light is sure eerie with all of the standing dead pines that have stood there since the earthquake that created this natural lake over a half a century ago.  I had no takers in this area, and decided to get in the car and drive to another stretch of river below Slide Inn as numerous fishermen began to crowd this length.  Apparently, they too had heard rumors that the big bugs were present.

As I drove past a stretch of water I had not yet tried, Kelly Galloup’s statement about, “if you’re not catching fish, it’s not the fishes’ fault,” rang loudly in my ears.  It was 7:00 a.m. and I thought to myself: Andy, here’s a beautiful stretch of river, the big bugs are still out, and you have an awesome opportunity to catch big fish on dry flies.  Try again!

The Stretch of River that Saved the Day.

Unable to argue with sound reason, I pulled over and started hitting the beautiful pocket water and runs before me.  I’m so glad I stopped because I started catching fish right then.  Of all things, I caught a full-on westslope cutthroat on a dry fly.  Before this, I had never caught a cutthroat on the Madison or even knew that they were present.  I suspect that the tributaries in this area, Beaver and Cabin Creeks both hold cutthroats in their upper stretches.  I took a picture to remember this accomplishment and to prove to others I’m not lying.  I also caught numerous whitefish all on nymphs and a scrappy fifteen inch rainbow that put on an acrobatic show.  What seemed like a bust, turned into a fun morning of fishing.

Westslope Cutthroat, on the Madison, of all places. The proof is in the pudding.

With the sun in full force, I fished my way up to the same log jam, but could get no more bites.  After this satisfying jaunt, I decided it was time to head downriver past the $3.00 Bridge area to a less popular stretch above the confluence of the West Fork of the Madison River where I had experienced splendid streamer fishing for brown trout in years past.

I opted for Galloup’s Barely Legal Streamer, and excitedly watched a huge brown chase it all the way to the bank twice, but still refused it.  I worked my way up to a beautiful lie, pitched the streamer into this fishy pool behind an exposed rock, and watched a huge brown charge at it with a white, open mouth, but he too would not commit.  I could not even get a fish to look at Galloup’s Silk Kitty, which figures, given its lame name.  While I caught no fish on streamers, it was sure fun to watch those big wary browns chase my flies.

I decided to spend the rest of the day with my wife and kids.  Even though the fishing did not equal that of 2002, these two days still were satisfying and special in their own right.

****

As an outdoorsman, I truly love all of the places that I hunt and fish.  After being absent for a time, their familiarity and beauty always make me feel like I’m coming home.  While my rivers and coverts are all special, a few take on the aura of sacredness because of the treasured experiences that occurred there.  Such places evoke in me a feeling of closeness to Nature and Nature’s God.  The Madison River is definitely one such place for me.  After all of these years, it is still Heaven on Earth.

Still Heaven on Earth

CHECK OUT ANDREW WAYMENT’S “A PRESIDENTIAL PURSUIT” ON UPLAND EQUATIONS

I just posted an article on Upland Equations entitled “A Presidential Pursuit,” which I believe the followers of Upland Ways will enjoy.  I wrote this article last year, but just didn’t get around to getting it published in a magazine or elsewhere.  Notwithstanding, I love it and decided to share it with the followers of my blog, Upland Equations.    This historical article shares little known facts that suggest that the first three Presidents of the United States, George Washington, John Adams, and Thomas Jefferson were, to some degree, bird hunters.

Due to its length, I have decided to split the article into three parts, which will be published once a week for the next three weeks on Upland Equations.  The first contains the introduction and the section pertaining to George Washington, the second pertains to John Adams, and the third pertains to Thomas Jefferson.  As always, I would appreciate any feed back as I am considering including this in an upcoming book about bird hunting.

For those interested, here is the link.

http://theuplandequation.blogspot.com/2013/03/a-presidential-pursuit-part-one.html

JIM MCCANN’S REVIEW OF HEAVEN ON EARTH

For me, social media is both a blessing and a curse, a curse because I waste so much time dinking around when I could be doing more productive things (like hunting, fishing, writing on this blog or writing another book) and a blessing because I have met some awesome people that I would not have otherwise met.  Jim McCann is one of those people.  I had seen Jim on American Gun Dog while he and Harley Jackson hunted late season ptarmigan in Alaska and was impressed with his Brittanies and the place he calls home, but didn’t know much else about him.  On the show, Harley described Jim as a real “Rennaisance Man”

Jim McCann is the author of Upland Hunting in Alaska, which is the definitive book on the subject. This excellent book is packed with good information and good stories.

Then came Facebook.  I met Jim through a group we started on Facebook called “Bird Dogs & Fly Fishing,” which is a fun group where bird-doggers and fly fishers come together and share stories, photos, recipes, artwork, writings, etc.  In this group, we try to keep things positive and upbeat and the members have been just great.  If you haven’t checked us out on Facebook, look us up and ask to join.  I first became acquainted with Jim through his great photography that he regularly posts on Bird Dogs & Fly Fishing, which include pictures of upland hunting with his Brittanies in Alaska, which is number one on my bucket list.  From his posts,  I gathered that, like me, Jim loves Brittanies, and loves to hunt the noble ruffed grouse and sharptails, definitely a man after my own heart.   As I’ve come to know Jim a little more, I have learned that he is an excellent photographer, a freelance writer, and the author of the excellent book, Upland Hunting in Alaska, which I thoroughly enjoyed. I will be posting a full-scale review of this book soon.   In short, Jim truly is a true Rennaisance Man and I enjoy his photography and writing.

Sharing so much in common with Jim, I decided to ask him if he would be willing to review my book: Heaven on Earth Stories of Fly Fishing, Fun & Faith, to which he graciously agreed.  Here is Jim’s review of my book:

If you’re looking for a how-to book on fly fishing, Andrew Wayment’s book Heaven on Earth isn’t a book for you. Instead this is a book about a young man’s travel through those formative years as he searches for the right career and the love of his life.  Andrew seems to have found both, and attributes his success to his strong faith in God, and in his ability to find solace and understanding while standing knee deep in a tumbling trout stream. Like Andrew, I, too, have often discovered answers and inspiration during time spent in the wild; whether fly fishing or bird hunting, eventually a mountain breeze will clear the fog from my cluttered brain, and a shaft of sunlight filtered through clouds aloft will show me the way.   

As a first time author, I am truly grateful to know that others have enjoyed the book and can relate to its message. Thanks for your kind words Jim!

For those of you who have not yet picked up your copy of the book, you can get signed paper back copies at www.heavenonearthbook.com.

Also, the book is available in Kindle at: http://www.amazon.com/Heaven-On-Earth-Stories-ebook/dp/B00A6VOXMY/ref=sr_1_cc_1?s=aps&ie=UTF8&qid=1359608510&sr=1-1-catcorr&keywords=Andrew+Wayment

And in Nook at: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/heaven-on-earth-andrew-wayment/1112224295?ean=2940015516111&itm=1&usri=andrew+wayment.

For those of you who have read Heaven on Earth, you may be interested to know that I started working in earnest of the sequel to this book, which will be entitled, The River of God so stay tuned!

DEZ YOUNG’S REVIEW OF WAYMENT’S HEAVEN ON EARTH

If you’ve read my book, Heaven on Earth: Stories of Fly Fishing, Fun & Faith, you know that I started bird hunting and fly fishing in earnest around the same time that I entered law school.   My favorite show at the time and still one of my all-time favorite bird hunting shows is “Hunting With Hank.”  Of course, I appreciated the Llewellyn Setter Hank’s hunting ability, but I also appreciated the respect that Dez always showed to the precious upland game birds we pursue and also the celebration of the great tradition of our sport.  Dez is a class act, for sure.

Dez Young, Host of “Hunting with Hank” and “Upland Days with Dash & Dez.”

This picture is actually of Dez and Hank’s son, Dash.

Since those days of yore, Dez has written a book, Hunting With Hank, and also hosted a show with Hank’s son, Dash, called, “Upland Days with Dash and Dez.”  I understand that Dez has written an audio book of the same name.  To learn more about, Dez Young and his excellent bird-hunting shows and books, please follow this link: http://www.hwhproductions.com/

Over the last few years, I have been fortunate to be a friend of Dez’s on Facebook and on the Bird Dogs & Fly Fishing group that Shawn and I started on Facebook.  Through this group and also from Dez’s show, I know that Dez is also a fly fisherman.  So I decided to ask Dez if he would like to review a copy of my book, Heaven on Earth: Stories of Fly Fishing, Fun & Faith, which he graciously agreed.  With some of the spiritual themes in the book, I was not sure how it would be received.  So, of course, I was excited to hear that Dez enjoyed the book.  Here is his review:

Andrew, finished your new book…my review follows:

I grew up in an extended family that loved the outdoors. As I read your new book, filled with stories of your family and friends, memories of my days fly fishing on the stream and chasing birds in the field with my Uncle Bill and Cousin Gary came flooding back to me. I believe that is one of the gifts of good story teller…it brings back stories of one’s own adventures and experiences. Your story telling did that for me as I turned page after page. Thank you for sharing your memories with me.

Dez Young

Thank you Dez for the great review.  It is a true honor!  If any of you are interested in learning more about my book or getting signed copies, here is the link to the book’s website: www.heavenonearthbook.com

Also, the book is available on Kindle at this LINK and in Nook at this LINK.

RUFFIN’ IT WITH MISTY

RUFFIN’ IT WITH MISTY

It’s hard to believe, but we are nearing the end of my Brittany, Misty Morning Sunrise’s (“Misty”), third hunting season.  Although things started out a bit shaky because of Misty’s intense personality, she has turned into quite the bird dog and also a good companion in the field, which is every bit as—if not more—important to me.

As I reflect on her already impressive career, I think my favorite memories with Misty are hunting ruffed grouse together.  For whatever reason, Misty just seems to get ruffed grouse hunting.  For this post, I thought it would be fun to share a few snapshots of ruffin’ it with Misty during her first three seasons.

2010, FIRST SEASON

It’s late October and my brothers, Shawn and Robbie, and my son, Tommy and his friend, Mason, and I are pushing through a covert we call “Grouse Springs” because we always seem to find the grouse close to the natural springs on the edge of the big quaking aspen- filled draw.  The dogs get ahead of us and Sunny Girl locates and flushes a ruffed grouse into a tree.  Sunny then does something I’ve never heard before; she barks in high-pitched excitement—like a Golden Retriever—at the treed grouse until I can get into position.

I finally see the object of her excitement in a small quakie, a ruffie with its crest raised in alarm.   I holler at the bird and walk toward it briskly and it flushes hard into the thick cover.  I snap a shot at the grouse as it tops out of the trees, but I don’t see the bird go down.  I think to myself: I think I was on that bird.

Robbie, Shawn, and the boys continue to push up to the top of the draw.  I decide to take the dogs and see if we can find that grouse.  We follow the line the bird took.  The going is tough in the thick cover, even with the leaves down, and I have to get on my hands and knees to get through one gnarly section.  When we reach a small opening, I hear the thunder of wings, but the bird only gets a few feet off the ground as its wing is broken.  That’s Misty’s cue and she chases down the running grouse and brings it to hand: “Alright Misty!” I praise.  It is one of my proudest moments of her to date.

Misty’s bird.

A fine brace of gray-phased ruffs from Grouse Springs.

****

It’s the beginning of November and I am not ready to hang up the hunting vest yet as it has been the best season I have had in years, which has a lot to do with Misty.  Besides, this Saturday morning is blue bird beautiful.  I decide to take the dogs to the “Royal Macnab,” my favorite covert in the world.

Since the sharptail season is now closed in Idaho, we are looking for ruffed grouse in the trees above the rolling CRP fields.  We walk along a two track road, with thick quakies on either side.  The cover reminds me of many of the New England coverts I have read about in so many books and fittingly, the fall colors are in full force.

In the midst of my revelry, Misty wanders off to my right into a thick tangle and goes on point, with Sunny Girl backing.  There is no doubt in my mind that she has a bird.  While my heart pounds in my chest, a bird rips up through the cover and I promptly miss it twice.

More determined than ever, I mark the bird down and go right to the spot it landed and it flushes again, with the same result.    The bird’s flight is farther this time, but I think I know generally where it is.  We get over to the site and I’m walking on egg shells as I know the bird will erupt any second.  The dogs and I are pushing through sage and bitter brush near a grove a quakies and the bird gets up in the wide open.  I blow two more holes in the sky and the bird is gone.

Later that day, I post on the Upland Equations’ wall on Facebook, “Grouse 6, me 0.  I got my butt kicked today in the grouse woods!”

2011, SECOND SEASON

The Winter of 2010 and 2011 had been a harsh one.  The snow in the high country did not leave until early June of 2011.  The long winter had taken its toll on the grouse populations. The dogs and I struggled to find many birds on opening day.

Notwithstanding, hunting is an exercise in optimism and I decide to take off the Friday of opening week to try and find some darn grouse.  We hunt Grouseketeer Ridge and see nothing.  To paraphrase Benjamin Winiford Payne, from the movie, Major Payne, I jokingly state out loud: ”There gotta be some bird need a lil’ killin’.” So we head over to Grouse Springs.

Grouse Springs has been so consistent over the years so I still feel hopeful.  However, despite a good once over, we find no grouse in the draw where the spring flows.  We hike all the way to the top of Sunrise Ridge and locate no blues up top.  So we head downhill to quakie draw that runs parallel to Grouse Springs, a covert, I call, “Grouse Alley.”  This is our final push for the day.

Since it’s early September, the trees are dressed in full, green foliage and the cover is thick.  Not to mention that it is getting hot.  As we make our way down a narrow game trail, an alley of sorts, the dogs and I enter into a small brushy opening that just screams of grouse.  Sunny and Misty, the old-timer and the pup, begin to work scent in unison giving me only a moment’s warning.  As they zero in on the scent’s source, a grouse flushes hard through the opening giving only a split second for a shot.  I swing as hard as I can and actually shoot through some thick green leaves.  The next thing I hear is the threnody of the bird’s last wing beats on the forest floor.  Sunny Girl brings the bird to hand.  I am thrilled to the core.

First and only bird of September.

I love this picture because you can seen the intensity in Misty’s eyes.

This was our only bird for the whole month of September.

****

Despite a rough start, hunting improves in October, especially during our annual week of hunting in the Idaho uplands.  Shawn and I are ecstatic about how the hunting has been.  Man, I love Idaho!

While I love to hunt, quail, Huns, and sharptails, the birds of my heart are Ruffs and Blues.  So it is only fitting, that we end the week in one of my best ruffed grouse coverts, Grouse Alley, where I took my first bird of the year in September.

For years, Shawn, who lives in Colorado where you can’t hunt ruffed grouse, has wanted to take a ruffie over a point, but just can’t seem to get it to all come together when he is in Idaho.  As we walk through Grouse Alley, his little tri-color setter, Grouse River Gretchen, does what she was bred to do, and finds a points a bird, which flushes straightaway.  Brother Shawn snaps a shot through the cover and the bird comes down.

When the bird is brought to hand, Shawn exclaims, “Andy, this is a red-phased grouse!”

Brother Shawn and his red-phased ruff from Grouse Alley.

I respond, “They are pretty rare in this covert.  The majority of the grouse here are gray.”

We continue to push down the alley and the dogs are working the cover well.  Only fifty yards from where Shawn took his grouse, Misty, no longer a puppy, crosses in front of me and strikes a beautiful point, which all bird hunters live for.

“Brother, Misty is on point!” I exclaim.

At the sound of my voice, the bird thunders right to left and I swing hard and throw a shot ahead of the gray blur.  With the thick cover, I do not see the bird hit the ground, but Shawn does.

“Good shot, Andy!” He compliments.

I am so proud of Misty that I hoop and holler, “Yeah Misty!”  What a way to end the week in the Idaho uplands!  It felt as if the dogs and I had come round full circle.

Two distinct ruffs from Grouse Alley.

2012, THIRD SEASON

It rained hard Friday night, but I don’t want to miss out on any hunting this opening weekend.  My son, Tommy, agrees to come with me this Saturday morning.  Fortunately for us, the sun decides to show its faces and warm things up some, but everything is still soaked and we get a little wet too.  We hunt the windy ridges in search of blue grouse and find a few, one of which we take and Misty retrieves.

After a long and fruitless walk on Hope Hill, Tommy is ready to call it a day.  But a diehard grouse hunter is never ready to call it quits.  So I keep my eyes peeled as we head down the dirt road towards home.  As we drive, I notice a ruffed grouse sitting on a bare spot beneath a big pine tree, where it is trying to get dry and warm from the wet night.  There’s my Roadside Revelation!

“Tommy, I just saw a bird!” I stated excitedly, “I’m going after it, okay?”

“Okay, but I’m going to stay here and play on my pad.”  Tom responds.  Kids and their dang technology!

I pull over and climb the barbed-wire fence and hike towards where I saw the grouse.  As Misty and I work through the trees, however, we don’t see the bird.  I am about to turn back, but then think: I know what I saw.  There was a grouse somewhere in here.   So I stay the course.  Ten feet further, I spy the grouse hunched beneath a pine bough, right where I first saw him.  I knew I saw a grouse!  I call Misty over to me and point towards the bird and command, “Get the bird!”

Misty makes her way toward the bird and it gets up and runs back the direction we came in.  I realize that if I am to get a shot, I need to relocate, so I quickly back track down the game trail I came in on hoping to see the bird when it gets up.  Misty flushes the grouse perfectly right in front of me.  I throw a shot ahead as it crosses in front of me and the bird drops.  Misty and I have our first ruffed grouse of the year and I couldn’t be happier.

Our first ruff of 2012. Without Misty, it would not have happened.

*****

Like I said, Misty has turned into a heck of a good bird dog and, to my good fortune, she excels on the wily ruffed grouse.  I look forward to our future days together in the grouse woods.  There is nowhere I’d rather be than ruffin’ it with Misty.

Hunting buddies. Man, I love that dog!

CONVERSATION WITH GEORGE

 

Thats Ruff!: Reflections from Grouse Country. This is one of the original patches for the Ancient and Honorable Order of Brush Worn Partridge Hunters.

On Saturday, December 1, 2012, as I was barbequing some ribs on my smoker grill in the cold and snow, I received the following email:

Dear Mr. Wayment,

    I just found your wonderful review of my book and would like to say thank you in person. Hope this reaches you. Please email or call me.

    Best regards,

   George King

Below the name was a phone number.  For those of you who don’t know, George King is the author of the excellent book, That’s Ruff!: Reflections from Grouse Country, which I recently reviewed on Upland Ways. Of course, I was delighted to know that Mr. King had read and enjoyed my review.  I typically am the type to shy away from famous people, but for some reason, I thought: What the heck! I’ll give him a call.

Only seconds later, George answered the phone and I tentatively asked, “Is George there?”

He replied. “This is George.”

“Hello, this is Andy Wayment.”

He instantly thanked me profusely for the book review.  I replied that it was my pleasure and that I meant every single word.  I told him that I was thinking earlier that very morning what a shame it would have been if he hadn’t finished the book (which he admitted he almost did not) and wondered how many other hunters out there experience all of this excitement and beauty, but then take it to their graves without sharing it with others.  I thanked him for finishing the book and told him that, in my opinion, it is the best work on grouse hunting since Burton Spiller.  He felt honored by the compliment.

We talked about Burton Spiller and how neat it was that George got to meet him shortly before he passed away.  George told me that in addition to being a writer, Burt was also the grower of award-winning gladioli, which I had previously read about Spiller.  I expressed that Spiller is my favorite because he was not only a good writer, but also a good man and that I aspire to write like him.  I thanked George for his efforts in bringing back Spiller’s works and told him that I realized that if it wasn’t for his efforts, the classic Spiller works would not be so readily available to my generation of sportsmen.

George asked me how I can be a practicing attorney and still find time to write for the Upland Way and Upland Equations blogs.  I replied that I have six kids so that further limits my time.  I explained how writing about my hunting and fishing adventures is very therapeutic for the stress that I endure as an attorney and that writing is a significant part of who I am.

George told me about retiring early and enjoying his farm and grouse hunting.  He then expressed his philosophy about enjoying oneself before it’s too late.  As far as I can recollect, George’s exact words were:

Quit as soon as you can while your health is still good.  I have people ask me all the time if I wished I would have worked longer before retiring so that I would have had a bigger pension.  I tell them, “Heck no.”  How can I put a price on all of the time I’ve spent doing what I love?  You can’t measure that. 

George’s words reminded me of some things a few of my favorite writers had written.  Havilah Babcock’s motto was to: “Work hard and quit suddenly.”  Likewise, the great Idahoan, Ted Trueblood, wrote of pursuing his outdoor passion: “Don’t wait too long.  If you wait until tomorrow, tomorrow may never come.”  Lastly, an acquaintance of Burton Spiller actually took him to task on his constant sporting endeavors and asked, “Did you ever count the cost of your hunting? . . . Of the time you have lost and the money you spent?” This question sparked the timeless response by the Poet Laureate of Grouse Hunting:

I replied and truthfully too, that I never lost a moment’s time in hunting: that I counted only that time lost which I spent working. . . . You think the days and weeks I have spent afield were wasted. Well, let me tell you this. If such a thing were possible, I would not trade even the memories of those glorious days for all the money you will ever possess.

Now we can add George King to this list of wise sages.

Old Gate Ruffs by Ross B. Young.

One of the most thrilling parts of our telephone conversation came towards the end.  To set the stage for this, I wrote the following in my review of That’s Ruff!:

King created the Ancient and Honorable Order of Brush Worn Partridge Hunters (or “Brush Worns” for short) and when a person subscribed to Grouse Cover, they were issued a certificate and also could order a patch showing they were officially a Brush Worn. To my understanding, after almost 40 years, Brush Worns still exhibit their certificates and patches with pride.  I want some of those for myself! 

I also wishfully proclaimed: “So many years later and I already feel as if I belong.”

As we were wrapping up our conversation, George said something I will always treasure:

Before we hang up, I do not want to forget that there is something important that I wanted to tell you.  You are the exact sort of guy I had in mind when I created the Brush Worns.  In gratitude of your wonderful review of my book, I am hereby dubbing you an honorary Brush Worn.    

I heartedly responded, “This is truly an honor.  Thank you so much!”

For me, visiting with George was very enjoyable.  I was amazed by his humility, his likeability, and his generosity.  I felt truly honored to be inducted into the ranks of the Brush Worns.  Talking with George was like tapping into that great tradition of our outdoor writing heritage, if only for a moment.  As I said in my review of That’s Ruff!: “Mark my words, this book is a sporting classic and will go down in history as one of the greatest upland bird hunting books ever written!”  After talking with George in person, I can attest for youdiehard ruffed grouse hunters, George is the real deal.  Like Spiller, George is not only a great writer, but also a good man.  Thank you for everything George.

Cockers & Chukars

This morning I was sitting in my favorite diner on the Arkansas waiting for my heart attack breakfast and hoping for some streamer action on such a glorious Sunday December morning. I started day dreaming of my little black devil dog and how much fun I had following her around in the uplands of Idaho. Now…don’t get me wrong or pre-judge me…I’m a setterman dyed-in-the-wool.

My annual October trip to Idaho this year was pretty dang special! Andy and I look forward to this time of year for 11 months. In fact we talk on the phone dang near every day about it…where we gonna hit first? The Trail to Quail? Snap Trap? Tommy’s Covey? The Miracle Half Mile? Grouse Rock? The Royal MacNab? These names all hold special memories for the Wayment Clan. Great dog points and sometimes pretty poor shooting on our behalf. But none the less…these are places we visit just before drifting to sleep at night.

One day this past October was epic for me and my FB English cocker Ellie. Gretchen was pretty tattered, so I left her in the dog box. My brother and good friend Sterling decided to hunt the lower Miracle Half Mile for valley quail while I climbed to the rim rocks with Ellie. Instantly they begin shooting the place up on quail and Huns…I was wondering if I’d made a wrong choice just as Ellie’s conductor-like tail began to spin 100 rpm’s…a covey of valley quail erupted out of the sage with the devil dog in hot pursuit. I made a nice double and Ellie retrieved the birds to hand. Not to bad of a start I thought to myself.

Ellie and I continued to climb to where I’ve seen those cantankerous chukars in years past. Ellie began to get birdy again in a draw at the base of a rim rock face. Chukars exploded from dang near everywhere. My first shot was at the covey without picking out a single bird. I shot a hole in the center of the covey. I thought to myself….pick out just one bird! Gained composure and dropped 3 birds with my double AYA 453. Ellie picked up all 3 birds and delivered them to me. I let out a loud “Waaaahoooo!” Which I’m sure Sterling and Andy never heard because they were engaged in their own sorta warfare below….

Ellie and I headed off in the general direction the covey went…Ellie put up a small group of Huns 50 yards from where we got into the chukars and I managed to drop one and again she retrieved the bird to hand!

What a glorious afternoon! Ellie and I excitedly headed down to find the boys below. We were needing to get on the road to meet the entire Wayment family for Thai food in Twin.

Glorious days like these with our canine companions and friends are what keep our blood boiling. I’m looking forward to the middle of December to go back to the Miracle Half Mile and chasing my new chukar dog!

See ya on the Western prairies…

Wyoming

Gary Thompson from Silk Lines and Paper Hulls invited me last weekend to come to Sheridan, Wyoming to chase sharp-tailed grouse and huns.  I was scheduled to meet Dale Herden from Lo Banks in north-central Kansas, but my friend Sterling called and said it was pretty pathetic…in fact, he never fired a shot opening weekend hunting on private property.  I left Denver traffic and eased into windy Wyoming late Thursday evening not sure what to expect.  Anyone that’s driven down the I-80 Wyoming corridor would consider Wyoming a desolate waste of space…space for antelope and sage chickens and wind turbines.  North Central Wyoming is awesome!  The Big Horns are spectacular…and there’s plenty of wild life to gawk over.  Gary and I saw some incredible bucks (antelope, mule deer and white-tailed) while wandering chokecherry draws and climbing rocking slopes.  What an incredible experience…we covered 15 to 16 miles on foot per day while the bird dogs did 4 times that.  Gary used an Garmin Astro 220 on his dogs…now I understand its value in the field.  Below are some images from my Wyoming trip.

Here’s Gary in search of wild birds

The Big Horns in the background

Grouse River Gretchen on a hun covey

Gary with a ST grouse

Gary with a hun

Ellie my FB English Cocker retrieving a hun

AYA and hun

LATEST REVIEW OF HEAVEN ON EARTH

I wanted to share with the followers of Upland Ways the latest review of my book, Heaven on Earth: Stories of Fly Fishing, Fun & Faith. This review was posted by Howard Levitt on his great, fly fishing blog, Windknots & Tangled Lines. I am grateful and honored by his review. For those interested in reading the review, here is the LINK

Also, if any are interested in learning more about my book, Heaven on Earth: Stories of Fly Fishing, Fun & Faith, here is the link to the website I created for the book, www.heavenonearthbook.com, where you can read reviews and purchased signed copies.  The book is also available in Kindle and Nook.  I am sure it would make a great Christmas present!

IDAHO’S FAB FOUR

IDAHO’ S FAB FOUR

Idaho truly is one of the best kept secrets in upland bird hunting.  Idaho is home to a variety of upland game birds.  We have five species of grouse: Sage, ruffed, dusky (blue), spruce, and sharp-tailed.  In addition, we have valley quail, Hungarian partridge, chukar partridge, and pheasants.  With this variety, however, it is not common that you take more than one or two species in a day simply because of their differing habitats.

Every year, my brother Shawn comes for a week of hunting throughout southern Idaho and we live for this week in the uplands with family, friends and our dogs.  The week this past October was one of our sweetest weeks ever.  I wanted to share with you my favorite day of this eventful week as I accomplished something I never dreamed possible for me.  Have you ever had one of those days where anything seems possible?  In basketball, I’ve heard it described as the sensation that the net becomes bigger and bigger such that the shots from the player easily swish through the hoop.  I recall watching my favorite player Karl Malone score over fifty points one night and it truly seemed that he could not miss.  In bird hunting, I miss much more than I hit, but there are times when I shoot surprisingly well.  Tuesday, October 9th, 2012, was one of those days for me:  I took four separate species of upland birds in one day.

Idaho’s Fab Four, sharp-tailed grouse, blue grouse, Hungarian partridge and ruffed grouse.

Along for the hunt that day were Shawn, his friend Sterling, our friend Troy, and his identical twin boys, Brigham and Wesley.  Because Wednesday was the Idaho deer hunter opener, we decided that on Tuesday, we would hunt one of our favorite sharptail and Hun coverts, Tommy’s Covey, because we knew that it would be overrun by deer hunters the following day.  This was an excellent call because the sharptails were abundant and, although noticeably less than the year before, the Huns were there in numbers that made things interesting.

After our first hunt, Shawn had taken one Hun and two sharptails (which is the limit), Troy had his limit of sharptails, and I had only one sharptail.  When I met up with Shawn, he said to me, “Andy, I found the mother load of sharptails.  I got my limit.  There were hundreds of them over in this draw. I wish you would have been there with me.”  With such a report, I was intrigued.

I wrote the following in my journal:

At the truck, we discussed going to Grouse Rock to hunt forest grouse, but I wanted to go after those sharptails that Shawn described to try and fill my limit. Everyone was agreeable to me walking this draw and Shawn told me right where to go.  Sure enough, there were still lots of birds in the draw, but not on the sage hillside on the left as Shawn had told me.  I only found one there, which I missed twice.  The birds were on the right-hand side in the choke cherries.  I missed another one that flew towards me and then up the draw.   So that was four misses.  As I observed birds coming out of the chokecherries, I felt this was the side to be on.  I actually marked down where one had settled. 

Misty and I worked to that spot and sure enough the grouse flushed uphill quartering left to right and I thumped it.  We ran uphill and found that the bird was just winged.  Misty made an awesome retrieve, but then let it go and I had to catch it.  So that filled my sharptail limit and it was my first limit of the year. 

To get back to the truck, I cut across the farmer’s cut field over into a draw I had previously hunted.  In fact, I went right to where I had earlier marked down a covey of Huns, but could not find them.  As I stepped near the edge of the deep draw, two Huns flushed.  They were getting away quickly, but I thought I still had time and shot at the one on the left and, to my surprise, it dropped.  Misty made an awesome retrieve of my fifth Hun ever.  I’m starting to think these birds are not invincible. 

  

The first two birds of the quartet: a Hun and a sharptail taken from Tommy’s Covey.

Back at the truck, we all decided to go after some forest grouse at a covert we call “Grouse Rock.”  As soon as we hit the national forest along the dirt road, we observed a phenomena: It seemed that every forest grouse in the area, and there were plenty, was on or near the road.  Of course, we stopped and walked them up and admittedly, I missed a few.

I wrote the following in my journal regarding this fun experience:

We drove  another hundred yards up the canyon and observed yet another ruffed grouse in a grassy opening on the left side of the road.  Shawn stopped the truck and I jumped out and walked briskly toward the grouse and it headed for some thick timber.  I was getting ready for a tough shot when another bird flushed behind me and I spun and dropped it.  As I went over to pick it up, I saw that it was still alive and was trying to get away. 

“GET THE DOG!!!” I yelled.

Meanwhile, back at the truck, the group observed it all and had a good laugh at my expense.  Troy even laughingly proclaimed, ”That was like watching Chris Farley hunting birds!”  Admittedly, I do get intense.

A gray-phased ruffed grouse taken by none other than Chris Farley.

They let Misty out and she promptly brought the bird to hand.  So that was three different birds in one day.  I had never done that before.  Realizing this, as we continued toward our destination, I mentioned to Shawn and Sterling, ”Before today, I have never taken three species in one day.” 

Shawn then stated, “If you get a blue grouse, that would make it  four in one day.” 

Sterling then said, “I’d like to see you do that.” 

If you look closely, there is a blue grouse in that tangle.

Only minutes later, we observed another bird on the narrow dirt road.  Lo and behold, it was a blue grouse this time.  “Go get him,” Shawn and Sterling said in unison.  I got out the shotgun and chased that grouse up the hill on the right-hand side of the road where it stood still enough to pose for a picture.  I could not get the darn bird to flush.  Again, I hollered for the dogs and then I got above the bird and pushed it down hill.  When I ran at it, it finally flushed.  I missed it on the first shot, corrected and decked it on the second.  Misty retrieved that one too.  So that was four different species in one day.  Perhaps we should call this accomplishment, ”Idaho’ s Fab Four.”  If I had set out to do this, I probably could not have gotten it done, but it was one of those charmed days. 

Misty delivers a nice big blue grouse, which was the last bird of the Fab Four.

No doubt, four species in one day is something I will never forget.  However, that afternoon I went on to accomplish another first-time feat.  At the time I took four species, we hadn’t even yet made it to our destination covert, Grouse Rock.  I am happy to report that just like the first day we discovered this cherished covert, Grouse Rock was loaded with ruffed and blue grouse and I harvested the limit of four forest grouse for the first time ever.  Yep, it was one of those days that bird hunters live for!  Man, I love Idaho!

A proud hunter poses before Idaho’s Fab Four. Heck of a day!