October 30, 2006

WINTER HAS COME TO THE PRAIRIES. Within six hours with the north wind the geese have left and I must drive to meet Ellen in North Dakota.

The border crossing back into the States is smooth and it is good to be home after being away for six weeks. The weather is intermittent snow but like the geese I have tail wind and the Camper moves at a steady clip. I move down to Fort Mandan and after they try and hit me up for an absurd entrance fee, I find that the site isn't close to where Lewis and Clark spent their winter on the Missouri. The site was flooded out hundreds of years ago.

October 28, 2006.

Evening was warm almost blamy meaning that the winter front from the artic was aproaching. If there is a nothern wind tonight the 3-4 million geese near my camp north of Regina will lift off at night and the sounds of their constanst cackling will be absent but for the big honkers starting to show.

I will follow them and haed for North Dakoata to meet Ellen who is flying into Bismarck to spend the week watching Belle and Fe on wild Pheasants

Late October

Winter is coming and the sprits from hard toil true pioneer ethics of the abandoned homesteads are silent until next year when the sod is broken and seeds palnted.

aThe sloughs have opened again and the last phase of waterfowl staging is underway. There are still considerable numbers of pintails in Canada and the northern greenheads are here along with the bluebills. The upland is wonderful as the birds are plump and all mature. The young of the year are educated and provide wonderful hunts

October 22, 2006

Hunting is prime now. The birds are fully pinned and the upland is coveyed into larger groups. There is little hunting pressure this time of years and once you get away from the towns with motels at least 30-40 miles the hunting is wonderful again.

What I enjoy most ARE THE LIFESTYLES AND PEOPLE. They HAVE TRADIDTIONAL MID WESTERN VALUES AND WORK ETHICS. Get in a bind and they are there in a heartbeat to help. It takes me back to my grandparents’ home in South Dakota and graduate schools years at Purdue. … Wonderful community where people are enjoyed.

The camping is the centerpiece of the campaign. Being close to the hunting grounds away from restaurants is wonderful. Having the dogs so well behaved and part of the camp is most welcomed. Usually for breakfast I brew coffee with splash of Jack and farm eggs and bison sausage. I am filled until supper when I prepared the game taken the day before.

Grouse, either sharptail, ruffed and spruce in that order with a side of rice or boiled potatoes balances the food. I try and eat only what the gardens and bush provide. I get most of my staple from the Hutterites and the remainder is harvest. I avoid the towns until I need fuel.
I like to stir fry game whole. Mallard breast are at the top of the list as well as goose. I can take a guy who dislikes waterfowl and prepared a dinner he thinks is a filet. Like my friends Wayne Nish a famous chef and dedicated hunter in New York, it is in the prep.

OCTOBER 15

The cold weather forces us down from the northland. There is so much water up here that it seems as though a vast river covered the forrest. The nights are crisp and the camper is cozy. Belle sleeps next to me all night and the lows are getting to be about -10. I dare not turn the heater on or my propane and battery would be gone within days and I am at least two days from propane. My sleeping bag is down and with extra long indeis I stay warm. Although I must socailize with the others I usually start try and begin to to sleep no later than 8:00. Early mornings are quite very cold but turing on the stove to heat water for coffee gets me going. There is frost covering the windows from my breathing.

Bellefe and Fe are let out to air and truly enjoy the adventure and the day that lies ahead. They delight in everything and are really "Angels" put here om earth . The coldness doesn't seem tp phase them in the least and Fe who sleeps in the cab never wakes until morning. They are wonderful to travel and hunt and I am blessed to have such talented companions. Each night they dream and relive the day's hunt. I can see Belle moving and shaking as though she is on chase.

Staging is at it peak now. They flyway has changed from the Quills to ,ore central because of the all day hunting disruption of fall migration patterns and over zealous limits. Allowing 20 white geese a day is unfounded and only cheapens these wonderful birds to a commodity status.

I will take the party down to the Quills Lakes and on to Last Mountain..

September 15,2006
Forgot to post about

sun valley

Ketchum is nested in mountain valley filled with Hollywood types, mega condos and winter homes. I'm here because Hemingway and Gary Cooper loved it. Had Hemingway become impotent.... to writing? I think so and decided suicide was an honorable end to suffering. What an irony from the man who exposed maniless yuet in the end opted for shortcut void of suffering needed for his redemption. What a place to end it. I guess Hemingway knew that.

After Ketchum and the Big Wood Valley, it was going to be clear sailing up through the Targhee with a strong . Ketchum/Sun Valley was a clone to Jackson Hole and Big Sky with Bozeman following closely. We made camp in a field by Loving spring creek and spent the evening watching huge brown trout prepare their redds. The dogs loved the moist grass and rolled around for a half an hour.

There was as field trail nearby and many rigs were carrying fabolous lab. I felt for them as they would rarely is ever see wild birds. But they loved what they did. We spent an hour throwing dummies and marking drills all preps for water blinds I knew the lab would preform up North.

Watched the "Hunt for the Red October" and within minutes I was fast asleep. I dreamed of Hemingway canoeing down Silver Creek jump shooting mallards. I can see why he, his two wives ,and Gary Cooper loved this valley back then. They loved to pheasant hunt and ski. I figured EH WAS A CLASSIC HEDONIST out of the Gertrude Stein era and lived life to the fullillfest from wine, women and writing. When he couldn't feel anything or write up to his standards, he decided to move on.

Retraced his last night in Ketchum. He was quit jovial with his friends and left to have an early but heary dinner of prime rib at Christina's. He was in a cheery mood and left after telling a few stories from his Havana days.

EARLY morning of July 2nd 1961 at the age of 61 he blow his head off with an English "Best-Bespoke" shotgun made by Boss Gunmakers of London. EH changed American writing more than any single author. His early works showed great empathy for the human conditions.

Few places special like here exist. We are fortunate to live in Renio and be close to Lake Tahoe and all the skiing. Wish we I had taken more advantage of these SIERRA fabalous slopes.

Spending the night in Bozeman another wannabe site. Can not wait to move up to the Praires and let the dog find their game.

We made it out of Saskatoon driving north east out of the parkland heading for the Pre Cambrian schist. Jack London's would have felt at home up here where Moose and Elk are everywhere as is their nemesis the wolves. The rut is over but the grunt for Moose is on and they must be given deference as they are ornery and seem not to care if they run you over. There are plenty of Plenty of wolverine, lynx and bobcats to keep the grouse in check and their foot prints leave the tell tale signs in the soft snow. The past several years the grouse populations have been spotty with some terrains exploding others crashing.

We make camp near a lake filled with pike, and walleye. There is trace of snow but we have quads and winches to extract us from the bush if a storm come through. Here I will deploy my Woodward O/U with extra full chokes for brush cutting to reach deeply embedded ruffed grouse that flush at your feet and quickly put obstacles between you and the flush. These birds flush so well and with great vigor that the sounds of their wing beat are rumored to cause men to suffer momentary heart failure. I find my first flush after the lab locates a scent on a cut trail where there are several tall black spruce trees.

Camp is simple and out of the winds. Each night the wolves come in close to welcome and serenade us. Their songs remind me of Gregorian chants from my Seminary days. The northern lights dance and the air are still with their songs but I know that killing by these packs is almost at nightly task. My dogs are a sleep inside and seem not to heed their accessorial calls. They are so removed from the gene pool by the domestication that they have little in common although I see the yellow piecing eyes from the German Wirehair that sometimes can raise the hairs on my back

October 3. 2006
I wanted to let the group decide our travel plans. They had no idea of what lay ahead and I wanted to keep it a surprise for them to discover. All opted to travel Saskatchewan hard hit the coverts, watch the wildife tour the province and listen to wolves howl during the upcoming full moon. How could I argue with this logic and so we did three field shoots two afternoon upland before launching off to the north woodlands where ruffed, big honkers, drake mallards, wolverine, moose and wolves co- mingle. But first I had to send a couple of nights with my farmer friends who hold their slough for us containing about 1,000, 000 ducks and geese plus plenty of grouse and partridge.

It was wonderful to visit my friends again. They had six wells pumping oil 24 hours and a heavy crop this year. Their children were fledging and off to the city but were coming back to share supper, rye and coke and visit with the Yankees. My American friends were shocked at the hospitality offered and wanted to know how much they were going to pay. American hunters are so accustomed to being treated as commodities rather than special people and visitors. They are uncomfortable at first not having to pay for the privilege of hunting. Each morning hundred of thousands of geese fly over the homestead. One could limit out within an hour if they choose but the spec table of birds life over whelms the hunter instinct and the birds watcher takes over.

We spend two nights before heading to the Forrest and farewells are heart felt with promises of returning next year for sure. We pass through Biggar where I Often goose hunted with Milo Hansen who holds the record whitetail deer. We are in a great mood as I in the lead rig give a t6our about the geography, geology, agronomy and history of the route. Then we hit Saskatoon and the joy fades to urban realities-Traffic and crossing the University Bridge