Post by mjflores on Oct 16, 2011 21:29:15 GMT
Rain! My week off to bird hunt and the weatherman's forecast is rain with a helping of rain on the side! Well, in the great state of New Hampshire, us rugged New Englanders don't allow a little rain to stop us right?
Early Friday morning as I drove Northward in search of upland birds I was pleasantly surprised to have a break in the down pours. I only hoped it would last the morning, but in the back of my mind I knew I was in for a wet day in the woods. The truck was filled with the smell of Green Mountain Coffee and Filson Oil Finish Wax having touched up my chaps the night before in preparation of the wet day ahead. As I rolled along I thought of the woodcock I may get into, or perhaps the pheasant I could add to the freezer for holiday pies. I even though that perhaps the king would make an appearance this day, the king being the Ruffed Grouse of course.
I got dressed, unloaded Roux, and walked the tote road in the constant drizzle. I stopped to enjoy the view of the valley I'd be hunting, and to fill my lungs with the smell of fall. On the wind I could smell grapes coming from somewhere down below. I was excited.
Roux hunted hard, and the down pours that came and went kept her cool. I was glad I had applied fresh oil wax to my chaps the night before, and hung them by the wood stove to cure. My legs were the only dry part on my body. After an hour or so Roux worked through some dense birch and came on point. I thought to myself, "finally...this soaking will result in a bird". I walked slowly up to her and prepared for the flush of a bird...but the flush never came. After walking around kicking weeds and grass for nearly 5 minutes I looked back at my girl with a "well..where is it?" glance and noticed something. Roux kept raising her head, and appeared to be sniffing air scent. She then quickly moved 10 feet and locked on point again. I quickly looked up and saw the missing piece to the puzzle.
![]()
www.metrocast.net/~mjflores/NHWW/treed pheasant2.jpg[/img]
Can you see it?
![]()
www.metrocast.net/~mjflores/NHWW/treed pheasant3.jpg[/img]
OK, I'll admit I did stomp my feet in an attempt to get that rooster to fly but he was content to sit there staring at the big soaking wet dummy below so I leashed Roux and lead her 50 yards or so away and off we hunted for some more cooperative game ;D.
We finished our loop back to the truck and loaded up to try a stocking site I've never stopped at.
Once at the stocking site I was surprised to have the place to ourselves. In it we found a pretty brook and beautiful over grown fields with a mix of cut hay fields and thick woods below. We hunted a logging road to another hay field in deep. The rain had stopped and the sun began to peek out which felt nice on the back of my neck. Just after crossing a small brook that washed over the dirt road Roux came on point on my left side perhaps 25 yards in. I made my way to her slowly, searching for her bird. As I made my way to her and came up on her right side, an injured pheasant cock flopped and tried to walk away but couldn't. The bird was obviously sick or injured or a little of both so Roux quickly caught it and we put it out of it's misery. I left the bird for the critters who would surely make a meal of it come night fall.
Back at the truck, we were both soaked, hungry, exhausted, and had an empty game bag. This is one wet and tired bird dog!
I can speak for both of us and say neither would trade that day for a day sitting home because of rain!
Good luck and good hunting!
Early Friday morning as I drove Northward in search of upland birds I was pleasantly surprised to have a break in the down pours. I only hoped it would last the morning, but in the back of my mind I knew I was in for a wet day in the woods. The truck was filled with the smell of Green Mountain Coffee and Filson Oil Finish Wax having touched up my chaps the night before in preparation of the wet day ahead. As I rolled along I thought of the woodcock I may get into, or perhaps the pheasant I could add to the freezer for holiday pies. I even though that perhaps the king would make an appearance this day, the king being the Ruffed Grouse of course.
I got dressed, unloaded Roux, and walked the tote road in the constant drizzle. I stopped to enjoy the view of the valley I'd be hunting, and to fill my lungs with the smell of fall. On the wind I could smell grapes coming from somewhere down below. I was excited.
Roux hunted hard, and the down pours that came and went kept her cool. I was glad I had applied fresh oil wax to my chaps the night before, and hung them by the wood stove to cure. My legs were the only dry part on my body. After an hour or so Roux worked through some dense birch and came on point. I thought to myself, "finally...this soaking will result in a bird". I walked slowly up to her and prepared for the flush of a bird...but the flush never came. After walking around kicking weeds and grass for nearly 5 minutes I looked back at my girl with a "well..where is it?" glance and noticed something. Roux kept raising her head, and appeared to be sniffing air scent. She then quickly moved 10 feet and locked on point again. I quickly looked up and saw the missing piece to the puzzle.
Can you see it?
OK, I'll admit I did stomp my feet in an attempt to get that rooster to fly but he was content to sit there staring at the big soaking wet dummy below so I leashed Roux and lead her 50 yards or so away and off we hunted for some more cooperative game ;D.
We finished our loop back to the truck and loaded up to try a stocking site I've never stopped at.
Once at the stocking site I was surprised to have the place to ourselves. In it we found a pretty brook and beautiful over grown fields with a mix of cut hay fields and thick woods below. We hunted a logging road to another hay field in deep. The rain had stopped and the sun began to peek out which felt nice on the back of my neck. Just after crossing a small brook that washed over the dirt road Roux came on point on my left side perhaps 25 yards in. I made my way to her slowly, searching for her bird. As I made my way to her and came up on her right side, an injured pheasant cock flopped and tried to walk away but couldn't. The bird was obviously sick or injured or a little of both so Roux quickly caught it and we put it out of it's misery. I left the bird for the critters who would surely make a meal of it come night fall.
Back at the truck, we were both soaked, hungry, exhausted, and had an empty game bag. This is one wet and tired bird dog!
I can speak for both of us and say neither would trade that day for a day sitting home because of rain!
Good luck and good hunting!
