My Hell Hole
Aug, 2014
I'm not much of a traveler, but out of
necessity I find myself doing it more and more. It is usually about
going to a calling contest or something like that, but I often get
home sick and find myself thinking of places I would rather be. I
recently found myself at Niagara Falls in upstate New York. I was
sent to Rochester for work, but had a chance to ride over to the
falls for an evening. I rode on that little boat that travels out in
front of the thing and did the whole tourist deal. I was completely
blown away by the power of the energy in the form of wind and mist
that comes off of that thing. Nature is amazing no matter where you
are. Still I long for home, and the world that I love so much. I
guess birds of a feather do flock together because I met a very
friendly local grouse hunter. We visited only briefly but were able
to exchanged a few stories and talk about bird dogs a bit before we
went our separate ways. It was really nice to talk with him, but it
made me long for mid September and a very special canyon in the
Wasatch Mountains of Utah.
 |
| Tom sitting at around mid elevation in the hole. |
It is a place my wife, and friends
have affectionately called hell canyon because they feel its evil.
Many go with me once but few go a second time. It is only minutes
from a major city, and has been a treasure of a hunting spot for many
years. My dad first took me there deer hunting when I was a boy, and
it is exactly the same today as it was back then. In my life time I
have watched most everything change. They call it development, but to
me it is simply the loss of another playground. I see houses and
roads and stores taking over what was once farm land. Nearly all the
places I hunted as a boy are gone to “development”. It can be
very depressing, and it seems to happen everywhere. That steep evil
little canyon up there is the same as it ever was. Though physically
challenging it is my favorite place to hunt forest grouse. They might
not be the grouse of lore from the east, but they are the grouse I
grew up loving. Usually the bag there consists of both blues, and
Ruffed grouse. I have countless memories of dogs and friends in that
canyon, but today one is really on my mind.
was in Tic's yearling season. I
had worked very hard to give my young friend every opportunity to
find birds on his own. I left the older dogs home often to allow him
to really learn and took him out at least twice a week on his own
that first season. It was late September or maybe even early October
when I started Tic down into that steep canyon for the first time. A
fresh skiff of snow was on the ground and I knew from experience that
this was good for our chances, but not my footing. The already
melting snow made the whole canyon glisten in the morning sunshine.
It has the most beautiful stand of deep dark pines on one side and
short heavy brush on the other. The bottom of the canyon has a tiny
spring running down it and the cover around the water is
impenetrable. There are also Aspens, elderberries, some kind of
red-orange berry that is common in the Utah mountains, and all types
of leaves and buds that often turn up in the craws of a grouse. There
is so much habitat that on the best days one finds birds many and
often all the way through it from top to bottom. For one reason or
another it is a place they congregate when the weather starts to
turn. It is so steep that the blue grouse found up high in it only
have to flap a few times before diving down the canyon and out of
site. It is among the best places to be period.
It is always interesting to watch a
young dog learn about new cover and terrain. He had not seen terrain
this steep or brush like this before, and I wondered how he would
handle it. He struggled at first but adapted quick and was covering
ground well in no time. His first bird encounters of the morning were
not the best. He crowded a small group of blues near the top and then
another group several hundred yards down from there. It is hard to
not pull the trigger and harvest a bird or two like that, but I feel
strongly that it is best to shoot only pointed birds for a young dog
so I gritted my teeth and watched them fly away down the canyon like
they were dropping off of the flat earth. I smiled as I watched Tic
all excited and hopped up on bird scent. I found him very
entertaining racing all over the place being young full of
foolishness, energy, and enthusiasm. I waited for him to settle down
a bit after the second birds jumped, and then started back down the
canyon. We worked our way down to the upper edge of those dark pines.
They have some nice thick brush on the uphill side of them that often
holds both blue and ruffs. Tic was hunting that stuff when I stepped
around a large pine and saw the tip of his tail still and high in the
thick stuff. I was so excited to see my young dog standing like that.
I got to where I could see him a little better and stopped to admire
his beauty for a few moments. When a took another step birds went
everywhere, and I was able to connect on one. It tumbled down the
hill as I yelled “fetch Tic fetch” just like we practiced in the
yard he brought the ruffed grouse up the hill to my hand. I made a
huge deal out of it. We rolled around on the ground while I scratched
his ears, roughed him up a bit and told him “good boy!” over and
over. I remember
 |
| Young Tic on this hunt. |
how happy and excited he was that he had pleased me
that much. I ended up shooting three birds that day. One ruffed and
two blue grouse all pointed by Tic that morning. He had several other
bird producing points that I couldn’t get shots at. That was the
first time he really looked like he knew what he was doing. I
remember thinking Hmm he might just make a bird dog after all.
No comments:
Post a Comment