4TH WEEK ON TO NORTH DAKOTA

The first thing you noticed after crossing the U.S. border how wonderful are the American roads. We have the finest highway system in the world. I was caught in the Wildcat mountain with by a fast moving deadly Winter Storm that brought records lows to the Prairies. When a Canadian tells me to stay put and hunker down until the storms passes, I know its a serious weather pattern.
I was snow bound for 4 days but I was cozy and warm with plenty of whisky Single Malt, heat and my ever faithful companion Fe and Tess. Each night the the howls of the wolf came closer. By the fourth day I heard a grader off in the distant. I meant him on the road and he would pull me off the trail back to the road and could follow him if I wished. I decided I would make camp on the road that day, hunt for grouse as following him for the next 40 km would take forever, Besides the storm has passed and this was my last hunt before returning

By the time I made Williston ND next evening I was ready for a hot bath. All the rooms were taken. The city was in a frenzy with oil riggers and explores. I talked to a rigger who was staying in an Embassy Suite. He had lived there for a year at $120 a night. So settled for a hookup a fresh grouse fillet and I would get out of town early.

I headed south dodging huge oil trucks carrying the crude to the depots. I made the fateful decision to head south on side roads to avoid the flying oil trucks. As I reached the Dickinson area pheasant were everywhere and the kenneled dogs couldn't keep their eyes off the roadside birds. By the time I reach my hunt area the weather had turn BALMY. I meant my farmer contacts and within hours the dogs had flushed and or pointed over 50 birds. Shooting my 1876 W.C. Scott Premiere with dolphin head Hammers was thrilling. I had it re-barreled to an improved modified and modified making it possible bring bring down rooster at 30 yards or more and in December late- season doves at 40 yards. I could feel much like Lord Ripon could with out the baggage of a class society.

After our hunt through the CRP and creek bottoms each evening we would settle atop a hill to watch the sun set, grouse fly into the stubble and Mule Deer graze. There is a God saying hope you had a great day

OUR 3RD WEEK AND THE BOYZ WERE GETTING HOME SICK

These guys were no Jemimah Johnson but I knew that. Sure they loved the adventure but they were totally being tethered to their cell phones the wives calling them everyday. They had a hard time breaking off from the digital fiz they had to live with. Finally I gotthem deep into the bush where the cell couldn't penetrate and by day five they were untethered and happy as one could expect being decompressed. I call it digital fixaation, "digitalis," a poison so deadly it deadens the mindscape and prevent the human from becoming instinctive a predator. It often requires an intervention. I think this is the cry for help my hunting companions wanted from us... a deep intervention

I am so fortunate to have a highly educated wife of 32 years who doesn't need to cackle and control and enjoys being alone and thinking about how much fun I am having with my friends and our dogs.

By late October, filling our bags were filled many Huns, Sharptail, Ducks and Geese and so we moved camp to the upper northeast forest of the Province. Here the late migration of giant Canadian Geese was about to unfold. There were Moose , Bears grubbing for winter fat, Wolves all around, plenty of Ruffed Grouse and giant Canada geese

It was a hunter paradise but the dangers of impending winter and being caught was very real. And so after several goose and duck shoots my friends decided they had better beat the winter storms and head south to meet me in North Dakota. I needed the break. It was quite baby sitting but being a MAJOR DOMO for weeks was trying. I could linger here wanting much needed solitude with my dog friends camping deep woods and just being alone before heading south to my North Dakota Pheasant grounds.

The woods smelled sweet and as I walked the trails in search of grouse carrying my 1877 Isaac Hollis hammer gun with high profile hammers. I felt what many American woodman's experienced in the early 1900's before the hordes populated the hardwood forests. This is why I have come here for the last 20 plus years to make my DNA kinder with the Charles Russell West or Longfellow's Hardwoods

THE SUNSETS, THE PRAIRIES MAKES BIRDS

The shoots were almost silly. Too many birds came into our decoys and for the first time most of us quit shooting and watched the waterfowl work the decoys. We were bird watchers now for killing had no purpose. The dogs would feast like us on wild delicately cook grain-feed goose. Even cranes were off the list and so we focused on having great times on the farm getting ready for the Thanksgiving feast We could even watch the FARM boys chase Bull Moose which they filled after we headed up to Hudson Bay

My new pup was in heaven. All the months of daily training watching her eyes following the incoming birds and she held steady for the send. It was satisfying to see her get it. She was out producing the other lab finding cripple as we sweet the fields and marsh for cripples. How much could we stand only the dreams of tales next winter drove us onwards.

I was total in love with my exquisite Winchester Model 21 Duck made in 1947. I shoot them all from Boss double to Holland and Holland to W&C Scott and Sons but inside the blind raising up to greet eh incoming ducks or geese over Decoys,with this American beauty-gun is nothing sort of putting yours truly in a zone where it all comes together with labs, waterfowl and great company.

After unreal weather, surreal sunset, home cooked food I decided we need to move north and east towards the Quills and see what excessive rain had done to the Prairies