IT IS TIME FOR A SWAN

Around Thanksgiving, the Whistlers or Tundra Swans (Cygnus Columbianus sp) descend to the Great Basin. In Canada, while hunting waterfowl, they migrate in family flocks usually two all white parents with two or more grayish juveniles. By the time they reach Nevada they have grouped, still in their primitive state and easy to decoy. In Nevada we are allowed take one with a tag which must be immediately ID by a conservation officer. If a trumpeter is harvested, the season is suspended.

The Stillwater Valley near Fallon is an ancient basin that use to stretch across the Mountain Island Valleys Newlands Irrigation Project diverted Carson River to the thirsty Alfalfa fields. Ironic that most of Nevada's Alfalfa is exported to Californian. Stillwater is near where the first Pre-Colombian duck decoy was discovered as a tulle reed canvasback. These migration path are thousand of years old and are driven by iron laden nerves cells embed within the central nervous system. Magnetic fields guide these iron based cells of these giant birds as they align during North to South and return migration. These patterns are magnetically set and this epigenetic event is passed parents to offspring.

We set out a few white decs and within an hour a lone mature birds swings by and a single shot with bismuth from my 1947 Winchester "DUCK" Model 21 brings down our Thanksgiving diner.

A dog is man's best friend. How do you pay tribute to a companion that has been with you, never asking, always giving enjoying life to the fullest. They truly are our guardian angels. They never get into a snit, kanipation fit or need antidepressants. You give them honor by moving ahead in the Fields. We are about to lose the wonderful Lab after 10,000 retrieves to hand. Saskatchewan and the Dakotas were her happy hunting grounds so this year was for her and it was just as expected. Wonderful migration plenty of birds.. Stillwater's Belle was out of FC/AFC Code Blue x FC/AFC Magic Pearl. She spent her time under LuAnn Pleasant's Red Rover training system and how she thrived.

The fall staging this year was compressed and very cold weather forced the birds to huddle up fast . Being mobile and having farmer friends give scouting reports is essential. The birds rarely return to the same Stage 2 area unless there is good water. Hunting in Stage 4 or Stage 5 area is a zoo with guides and free lance and beside the flocks are educated. Camping on the Prairies is the secret to having the time of your life during this miraculous.
thrived

WINTER COMES TO THE PRAIRES THE HUNT IS ON

Fe, our quiet but horse sized German Wirehair Pointer, quietly took field command once our alpha female Lab showed the sad signs of aging. In her heart, Belle a stylish field trial lab without a gray hair, awoke on a Canadian arctic blast morning barely able to lift herself. I call my older hunter friend and he said to get her on Rimadyl, an anti-inflammatory nonsteroid but it was too late. Age had settled on Belle and all she desired warmth and soft bed and canned dog food. Fe was in charge and lifted her head in triumph. She was a Lady in waiting for the last six years and was out to prove her worth. Now was her time like a young baseball player she was ready to step in the and replace the veteran.

Darth Fe Dar or Fe is the type of animal you do not want to let loose at night. She would easily revert to her wolfish habits. Several years ago she escaped near the Quill Lakes in Canada. For three days I looked and searched along the shorelines and woodland patches. Finally at two nights later during a full moon and a blast of northern lights, I heard a whimping outside my camper and Fe was there humbled , cold but alive. I rushed her to the big animal clinic an hour way and waited till the clinic opened. I could feel a huge bulge in her stomach as she lay silently with her head on my lap. The vet was amazed she had survived the wilds. In the end Fe managed to eat whole a muskrat and it was extracted with some laxatives that the Vet used on larger animals. By morning Fe was in the fields retrieving and pointing birds. For now, she is such a gentle, well-mannered German Wirehair intense on finding birds. With her hunting is no game, she is on a mission from God. She wonders why she much take command this year.

Our first 2009 hunt was upland, Huns the querry and it was short sleeve weather. The first coveys of the years held tight and Fe in control held point steady for the first explosion. I would use only a 28 bore this early season and this added to the excitement of up close shooting under extreme weather conditions that came the next day and last for the next four weeks. Hitting doubles with a 28 bore on wild game is as exciting as one deserves.

In driven snow the next day, each step closer I took on point made the moment seem timeless. I gave Fe the order to flush and the explosion of 12 Huns is almost as powerful as chuckar. I rarely recall the mount, point and shoot. I see the fall of a bird or the getaway. The mild crack of the 28 bore burst the bubble and into a conscience world. I wonder where I go during those blackout phase. I am an instinctive shooter and had to reduce my trap and skeet shooting as my shooting habits handicapped me in the field where nanoseconds are driven by impulse and instinct.

THE HIGHWAY TO HEAVEN

Idaho's Silver Creek could inspired Hemingway to write until he came back from Cuba just after the Communist took power. A lonely two lane highway is about the only way to get to Sun Valley, unless you fly a Lear Jet. The old wagon road heads north from Idaho Falls, through Shoshone crests into the next valley choked with cold clean spring creeks that ooze from the towering Rockies Mountains ahead. This two lane highway cuts a vast ocean of fragrant sage that ranchers have tried to eradicate but they now realize to live in balance is better than the bastards invasive annual cheat grass the scourge of the West.
Farm trucks haul sugar beets to the local refinery. They are the only reminders that this beautiful Valley was once farm land. Now it host the "aspres- ski" crowd.

Belle our aging black lab lifts her nose to scent the desert. This time of year for a week or two the sage oil fragrance infuses the air and all things are in balance.

Ernest Hemingway might write, the road well traveled took Nick Adams through the stark desert. The pungent sage flowers signaled it was time to hunt and trout fish the local creeks. It was still early in the fall and birds could be taken by surprise

Ernesto Hemingway indulged himself with wine, strong women, double guns and trout. In the end, his depression could not over come the Valley's harmony. He knew pleasures in simple things of Sun Valley, sportsman routines, or the seasons especially the Fall. He learned money made him fearful and so much like a Hemingway character, he quit his fear blew his head off.

The Fall in Sun Valley makes jaded man feel something. By 60, Ernest had nothing left. He said that when you leave in search for other beautiful places, you leave behind everything. The pleasures on return are never the same and that is excruciating

Waterfowl still seek nightly sanctuaries to escape the coyotes and trout rise to sip 24 sized midges and the spring creeks sway with water cress. I watch as they sip the midges and cast my eyes towards a lone fly fisher. His slow long cast lays the tippet on the slow moving creek with great delicacy. A quick mend upstream hopeful to produce a free drift does nothing to entice these trout who seek selectivity.The stream takes my heart away. I could be casting to huge brown trout in New Zealand or on English waterways. It seems everywhere I travel these days I am transformed to another land chasing trout and game birds. Life is good and I am not to far from the "mecca of Holy Waters, The Yellowstone Plateau, the emerald of special places. Ellen and I will move on but we savory the richness of Stanley and Picabo.

Canadian bird hunting can not be to far off after touring the Yellowstone.

ANTICIPATION GROWS DAILY FOR THE JOURNEY

Ellen is ready to cast her dry fly to a rising Madison River rainbow. Even our dogs sense the trip. This year we will stop and fish the South Fork of the Boise on to Ketchum and then up to our place on the Madison River below Quake Lake. Where the cool night and warm days have the browns getting in the mood and the rainbows feisty. We will spend a day or two within the Yellowstone Park camping and fishing our old spots like Slough Creek.

We've been traveling up to the Yellowstone Plateau for over 40 years. We fly fished, told tales of grizzly bears in Slough Creek since there were no rattlers and caught a 100 trout a day on the tributaries of Yellowstone Lake. We fish and learned from the old timers like Charlie Brooks, Pat Barnes, even the easterner like Bob Jacklin. Our eldest was Baptized in these Holy water and time spent up there renewed us.

Ellen and I will separate after 10 days. Ellen loves her alone road trip and in her new Lincoln will drive through the Great Basin back to her fall gardening in Reno and time alone which she cherish. I will take the hounds past the Hi Line cross into the Hudson Bay watershed and camping on the Prairies where God entertain us with ruby sunsets and turquoise northern lights. Several friends with come later to camp and travel with me in Saskatchewan. We live off the land eating game birds, garden raised turnip, tomatoes potatoes and Hutterite non homogenized milk. The dogs gain strength feasting on wild ducks and geese and listen with ears perked to their ancestors, the wolves howl at the moon.

The Ford 350 crew cab dually 7.3 diesel has performed flawless. Living within the Lance Camper powered by solar and propane, we live quite well off the grid for 4-5 weeks until the winter storms drive us south. Anticipation and hope are good thing

THE SPORTING FIELDS ARE CALLING

The Glorious twelfth has passed again for the 30th time when we were married in Lake Tahoe. It was the last time my family would be together. I miss the Scottish moor red grouse hunts especially the rough shoots but this year I am consumed by planning our annual Canadian hunting now in its 23 years and for our upcoming Mexican fishing and whale watching adventure to the Baja.

Even though the mornings are finally cooler and by mid day the sun is no longer a reason to wear my hat, I am not going to dove shoot. Those will come later in Arizona in December. My two hounds are excited about the shortening photo period. They have been there many times. When I pack pack the Lance camper and fire up the dually diesel my lab Belle whines like a ... She and the German Wirehair, Fe sense the prairies hunting fields as they are tired of their morning walks with no game to chase. I am up before the sun waiting on our new Mexican Patio styled are sipping fresh ground, listening to the ipod playing a Rachmaninoff piece before the sun hit the garden and the birds are awake. We enjoy watching the the varied birds come to feed in of native plant garden. First the paired Valley quail, with the hordes of English sparrows with yellow goldfinches fighting for the Ethiopian thistle seed. The mountain mahogany (Cercocarpus ledifolius) a Frankia nitrogen nodule fixer attracts the blue jays, the Sagebrush (Artemisia tridentata) and bristlecone pine Pinus longaeva shelter the many newly hatched Valley quail

Our popular trees are shedding their leaves. We raise red tail hawks in these stringy trees each year and when one of the fledgling flew into our home, I was able nursed it back to health using my falconry skills. I released it to it's screaming family. They recently left in search of prey. The Valley quail are still raising their broods and come feed morning. The buzz of the hummingbirds who nested in the crab apple tree comes within feet of my face seemly to stare me down. They show no fear and whisk away after feasting on a morning's nectar supply made overnight. Even the males doves have quit chasing and "cooing" the females.

I am calling my friends and farmers in Montana and the Canadian Prairies to get report on crops and water supply. It is a cool growing season and harvest will be delayed by weeks. The upland report is good with Huns and sharp tail highly localized. Ruffed Grouse is up in areas but crashed in more traditional regions.

Looking through the closet I search for camo. Move my trout fishing shirts back behind my woolens and hunting vests. I will need good warm camo to let me feel hidden as my flak batteries pound the skies for geese. Hard to contain desire of seeing the northern lights on the Prairies when we tactically position of decoys before sunrise. I dream of the silence as I will slowly move north through the Great Basin maybe taking the back roads passing through Great Basin National park near Ely.

MEXICO FISHING/CAMPING AND SPRING IN SIERRAS

Mexico is magic. The media has managed to scare our urban brethren from visiting this intriguing land and so we have the beaches to ourselves like the 1970's. Ellen, I and the canines drive down to my research center in northern Sonora before heading to the beaches. After a quick visit at CEDO we are off to find great seafood, spectacular sunset, mighty fish.

Mexico is a land of vast diversity. For us we pheasant hunt near Yuma in the warm of the sun, fight marlin on light tackle, or jig for mighty yellow tail. This was my 61st trip and Ellen's 24th. We are looking for land to setup camp near the pheasants and doves fields and be close to the beaches. We love Alamos, Sonora for doves and bass. This colonial city was where my father generated his Architectural design for his Green Valley project near Tucson. Dad would take us there in his Sky King never having to pass customs and we all shot doves, ducks and caught huge bass on a fly rod. Little has changed since those memorable days.

THE BLACK LABRADOR and THE GERMAN WIREHAIR or THE BEAUTY and the BEAST

ADVENTURES INTO CANADIAN WOLF COUNTRY

The vast skies give way to the Park lands as we pull stake and headed northeast. The hunters wanted a taste of ruffed grouse, huge Canadian geese and to then hear wolves howl at night. We found a great camping area next to a seclude lake far from crowds. The birch fires burned well into the night and the sky was ablaze with the early fall constellations. There are moose, elk and deer every where and the grouse are holding tight a joy for Fe.

At day break we walk the cut trials. I am letting my lab and German wirehair range a little further in to the bush to point and then flush these outstanding birds the can put a birch tree i n your way faster than a banker would give you a toxic loan. I am using a 1876 English double 12 bore hammer gun probably the finest example of British gun making. This W&C. Scott and Sons is # 2 of a pair I found in New Zealand and acquired from a Holland and Holland gunmaker .

Deep in to the forest a shot cracked and usually within minutes the dogs were being followed by curious wolves hoping to find a wounded grouse. I often let the young wolves have a meal or two by not letting Belle or Fe retrieve the wounded bird. I could hear the foot prints on the fallen leaves sometimes several pairs. This fall I had to use e-collars as my favorite Belle was in season and sometimes that condition brought the precocious males in to close. A quick nick with the tritronic and my pardner were at heel within minutes.

After a morning walk with a quick brace in hand for supper it was time to let the dogs loose for a hot walk. I was very close to town thinking we were safe. Fe stayed close but Belle loved to explore and within minutes she yelped run across the road with two wolves in pursuit. A quick blast from the hammer gun broke the chase and a sharp blast of the Gonia whistle brougth Belle back withe tail between her legs.

THE SASKATCHEAN HUNtTING TRAILS

The southwest land is sparely inhabited. This is cattle country with fields pumping out gas hidden below in then old shell fields almost pre Cambrian. There are not hotels but small town are out of a CM Russel portrait or a Louie Lam ore novel.. Here white fronted and the small Arctic Ross geese stage before heading g down to Kalamuth Lakes. There are many pot holes here but for several YEARS IT IS dry and so the birds concentrate. The Prairie grouse population are way up this season so the dogs will get a great workout.

Our first hunt is a pass shoot at cranes. There are four of us and we have our limit by mid morning. These are primitive birds and have little fear of human untill the reach New Mexico and Arizona. Sharptail are plentiful and by evening we have reach our season limit. Birds are cleaned , frozen and fillets prepared for the next several day. These crane are excellent table fare eith broiled of in a gravy stew. THE DOGS ALSO FEAST ON boiled goose breast and thighs. Nothing is left to waste except our minds watching the sun set over the grain fields