2010 THE CAMPAIGN WAS IN FULL SWING AND SO WAS THE PARTY

The Prairies are booming. Make no mistake about it, the eastern side of the Canadian Rockies from the Oil Patch, to Cropping, to an Indian Summer, makes for a festive mood. It is sad to see the Americans so wired to their cell phones and internet buzz try and cope with the world of farmers, cattlemen, oilmen, tradesmen and folks that connect with their eyeballs over coffee. Most newbies American hunters are suspicious of these people also wanting to know why they are so open and transparent.. they must want something from me.

I decided, with reservation to allow a Californian hunter to come with us this year. He seemed pleasant but would later turn out to be a hunter, "from Hell." He seemed fine for the first week always being on his cell phone. We had enough of him constantly being called by his while we scouted so I declare no more cell phones in public. Quickly figured he was addicted to painkillers and by week two he was running out. By the second week he was so hyper as he was taking three a day and constantly rambling telling us about his days as a nasty Union organizer. He was asked to leave.

Thanksgiving in Saskatchewan is early October and in the farming lands asll foods are homegrown. After a morning shoot, the spirits came forth and it poured Rye Whisky and then the, "Moonshine." John's brew was a true 98 proof and mixed with Pepsi. It made one of our group almost go blind. Dinner was served and by 6 we were watching the San Francisco giant in the playoff

IN THE VALLEY OF GEESE AND CRANES- PEST CONTROL

Depending on snow cover and spring runoff, there is this very special valley in Saskatchewan that will hold all waterfowl species and many migrating shore birds. For me an avid bird watcher, when the Gods have decided to give the Prairies good water, the farmer are delighted and so are the migrating birds. Within the Valley, all flyways, except the Eastern are represented here. The birds gather meet their cousin they haven't seen since last falls staging and like most Prairies Canadian , they know how to party. The song fest will last all night and day until winter comes to the Praires and like many Canadians after the harvest is done, Thanksgiving Dinner serves to family they are off to warmer climates.

All night the geese, ducks, cranes and snipes drink at their roost. Although not the Canadian Rye, there has to be something in the water to make them so happy, fat and content.

My Prairie farmer friends called me early September. "Get up here and get these frigging birds off my crop." This year was a very late harvest. It was bountiful, the price was solid and the geese were taken 6-9 acres a day from my bachelor friend Kevin. Crop Insurance would only cover so much so they needed our pest control methods

2010 TRAVELS FROM SUN VALLEY TO SASKATCHEWAN

There is a wonderful valley north of Twin Falls, Idaho that reminds me of spring creek fishing haunts for big browns near Haast on New Zealand's West Coast. I will camp near Sliver Creek. Idaho just west of Picabo. The valley was the play grounds for Hemingway his shooting and drinking buddies from the heady 50's. After visiting Hemingway graves site many times over the years and retracing his final hours, I am convinced he never did blew his head off with a pre-war 1902. London Best, Boss Side by Side 12 bore. In fact, he still lives and I saw him in Las Vegas recently. I would camp near Love Spring Creek and watch wary browns sip midges. The dogs were delighted to get out and stretch. They had been wonderful for the last two days in their kennels. Tess was content to live in her cave.




Fe had been here before and knew what was unfolding. Her excitement infused Tess with curiosity and she became infected by the cool valley air that the clung heavily to the nearby chalk stream lined with pungent red willows. Fe pranced about in anticipation awakening her dormant hunting skills that were going to be in demand. A Picabo night would wash way all desert dust for the next 6 weeks it would be Prairie night filled with arctic geese and wolf calls.

After Tess had meant her litter mate by accident, I knew the world was getting smaller. I craved elbow room and so I pulled the plug and headed up to the Canadian/U.S. border and WHOA was I in for a rude meeting with US officials. I was taking a new hammer gun into Canada and decided to declare it on the US side even those it was made in 1872 and considered an antique not a weapon. The official by the name was Fish made me take all my pre 1800 double barrels out so he could check them into his data base of course with my personal info. Now I know why they call it fishing. I asked for statues and he said he could not allow me to cross into Canada unless I declared all my guns. I did and let it go. I can see the angry of the Tea partiers. It took five minutes to declare pay for my guns in Canada and he bid me adieu and told me to enjoy myself. He apologized for the America saying they are over the top thinking that everyone was a boogieman.

Five miles down the single road I was humming a John Phillip Sosa tune thanking God for me allowing me to cross over to freedom of openness. Our first night was by the big Coulee I usuall camped at when hunting Huns, Sharptail and jump shooting teal and Mallards. The morning couldn't come soon enough.