Are U.S. or UK Sporting Dogs Better?

Blog Mirror: In the Mist of Tradition

 

In the Mist of Tradition

The 2023 Season. Third Year (or more) Running

I noted last year, when I did this report, the following:

The 2022 Season

The 2022 hunting season has ended.

In 2022, when I wrote about the 2021 season, I started off with this:

 It wasn't a great one, for a variety of reasons.

And that statement was true once again for 2022, but for different reasons, a lot of which had nothing much to do with the hunting season itself.

That's because 2022 has been the year of the field of Medicine, or age, or perhaps lifestyle, or whatever, catching up with me.

Well, I'm beginning to sound like a broken record on that, as it was once again quite true.

On big game, I didn't draw anything.  So, no antelope tag again.

Indeed, sometime in the fall, in one of the blogs linked in here, an out-of-state hunter posted about the great time he'd had in Wyoming antelope hunting and I nearly posted a crabby linked in post regarding that.  If out of staters are getting tags, in staters should be.

I didn't want to insult that person, so I didn't make that post, but I'm still not very happy about it.

I had general deer and elk tags, and I did go out for deer, but no luck.  For deer, I did have a very pleasant early winter hunt, if that's what we call this frighteningly warm mid-year season this year, but the only white tails, and that's what it was limited to, that we saw were on private land where I didn't have permission.  So, no deer.

Bird wise, the season was good for the most part.  Blue Grouse, which are illusive in my experience (a Game Warden who checked me didn't seem to think so) did make an appearance this year, so we did okay, but not great.

Doves were abundant, but I mostly missed shooting at them, which was sort of the story of the year in a lot of ways.  I did get a Mongolian Collared Dove for the first time, so was able to appreciate how much larger they are than Mourning Doves.

Sage chickens were also plentiful this year.

Chukars and Huns, which are in my experience very hard to hit, were abundant, but I didn't do well with them as I missed them more than I hit them.  I did get in a lot of late season chukar hunting close to town for the first time.

Waterfowl, which we hunted more than anything else, was very abundant.

So, not a self-reliance banner year. . . or was it?

Last Prior Edition:

The 2022 Season

Comparison and Constrast. Mourning Dove, left. Eurasian Collared Dove, right.

 

The pause that refreshes.

The The pause that refreshes.

Dove Opener

Rhodie camo.  Politically incorrect, but effective.

The dog found a turkey carcass.

Two doves, with lots of shooting.

Fishing season is over, and hunting season has begun.

I am, by vocation, a hunter.  A hunter of wildlife and fish.  And I'm not exaggerating.

This isn't a hobby with me.  I'm stuck in a feral past, or perhaps a more feral future, but lving in the present.  

And I'm more of a hunter than a fisherman, in contrast with my father, who was the other way around

The first two seasons of the year open on September 1.  Like most years, due to my occupation (which most people, at least who are professionals, would claim as their vocation, although I'd wager that it is with less than half, very conservatively), I worked.  Opening weekend for me, therefore, is usually when I first get out, and I first get out for the greatest of the wild grouse, Blue Grouse.

They are, I'd note, delicious.

This is a somewhat complicated story, but because of the route I take in, I need permission to cross, which is always forthcoming but I didn't hear back in time this year. That meant that I needed to drive into a location a good two miles further from my normal jumping off point.

And the road, due to the heavy rains this year, and the winter snow, was eroded to impassable. So the walk was further than expected.

But still very pretty, in the morning light.

Because of the very long hike, and my recent surgery, I armed myself with a kids model 20 gauge and buttoned my shirt up to my neck.  Because my old M1911 campaign hat was a casualty of a rattlesnake event two years ago, I wore a replacement United States Park Service campaign hat.  I don't like it nearly as much as my old M1911.

I will say that those wearing synthetic hats are, well, missing the point, and the boat.

The entire trip involves some mountain climbing for the dog.

The dog won't eat in the morning (poodles and doodles are strange about this) due to excitement, so I packed his uneaten breakfast with me. When we hit the high country, he was by that time hungry, in spite of his excitement.

Those boots?  White's smoke jumpers.  Best boots ever.

We hike a fair amount. The dog drank out of a few streams, but I also carry a canteen and he's learned to drink out of a canteen cup.

We found and bagged two young grouse.

And ate them one that evening.  I fried both, that night, and had the second one, reheated the second evening.