Shedding the Blues

 

Walla Walla Union Bulletin, April 29, 2018.

I spent the last several minutes marveling over the roster’s brilliant plumage. The girls were electrified, showered in praise as I slid the rooster into my vest. It was late in the season; the thick reed canary grass was crusted hard with snow and broken over the precipitous swale the girls were working. It was our last day of the season. Turning back for the truck, I was already looking ahead to September when the grouse and deer seasons would open again, dreading the long wait ahead.

As an avid upland bird and deer hunter, the enigma of deciding which is most inciting between working birds with my setters and putting the moves on a wily buck can be vexing. I spend the bulk of the off-season reminiscing of past hunts and planning for the next. Spring turkey hunting is a reasonable distraction, but there is another option that heats up around March: shed hunting.

Shed hunting is the art of searching for shed antlers. Each winter, deer, elk, and moose drop or “shed” their antlers to grow a new pair for the following fall. In much of the western United States, elk and mule deer inhabit the high country most of the year, but that’s not typically where you find sheds. When the snow flies, critters move down into the lower elevation “winter range”, which is typically where you want to look. In southeast Washington, mule deer can be found herded up among the bluffs above the Snake River and the foothills of the Blue Mountains.

Shed hunting is a common practice among hunters; however, for those of us obsessed with big game and working dogs, shed hunting promises to bridge the gap between the two worlds during the offseason. It can be a rewarding and downright challenging hobby as sheds blend in quite well with the surrounding vegetation. If I had a shed for each one I’ve passed within a few feet, my friends would have a lot fewer sheds. This is where Rover comes in.

Dogs with the appropriate nose, prey drive, and retrieving instinct can pick it up quickly. I won’t dive into the particulars of training a shed hunting dog, but I will say that the techniques can be quite similar to training your pup to hunt upland birds, and the same breeds are capable. Using an antler with a wax-based scent product and some practice time afield finding and retrieving the antler can feather your dog’s metaphorical cap, not to mention put a lot more bone in your pack at the end of the day.

Part of the shed hunting challenge is remaining focused. I get distracted enjoying the scenery and wildlife as I hike; hence, I walk by more sheds than I find. Having your four-legged companion participate in the search allows you to cover a lot more ground as a team, but the real advantage is that your pup doesn’t have to see the antler to find it. Finding a shed is always rewarding, but the finds are so much sweeter when you spy your pup galloping proudly back with a nice four-point shed.

Your pup will significantly improve your shed hunting game, but there are other key considerations as well. Timing can be crucial. March is a great time to begin shed hunting because most deer and elk will have shed by mid-March. You may also have great areas to choose from but do some homework on the habitat. Well used game trails and fence crossings appear to be a slam-dunk, but bedding areas and important food sources are the prime locations. Animals spend more time in these areas, increasing the odds they will shed there, where an animal on the move can drop an antler anywhere in the county.

If you want to get serious about shed hunting, treat it like any other hunting trip. Be prepared. Wear appropriate apparel, carry food and water, as well as some basic first aid supplies, and don’t be afraid to cover some miles. Possibly the most important tip of all; double check the regulations before heading out. National Parks and critical winter range may have strict regulations on if and when shed hunting or dogs are allowed.

Whether you’re a novice or have hunted sheds for years, a shed-hunting canine can be a game-changer. While solitary miles under a sixty-degree bluebird sky in April or May can sooth the soul, a hunt with man’s best friend can be epic. Turkeys are gobbling among the sparse timber across the canyon. A dull roar drifts up from the slightly swollen headwater stream tumbling below. You look up to see your pup barreling down-slope toting a considerable mule deer shed, which she delivers to hand; her fifth find of the morning. You are both ecstatic, and wagging furiously, she turns to find another.

A Tag for the Table

September 15th, 2020 – A Tag for the Table | Harvesting Nature

It was one of those years. Forced to fall back on “Plan B” for every hunt led me to lackluster locations and conditions with equivalent results. The general rifle deer season in southeast Washington is a predictable warzone. Public lands resemble a pumpkin patch as hunters push the open country. The silver lining was the limited draw whitetail doe (“second deer”) tag in my pocket, of which it was the opening day.

A suffocating fog blanketed the morning, which I swam through with hopes of tripping over a doe in thick cover. And true to “luck of the draw”, I busted several decent bucks at point-bank range, nary a doe to be found. A stark contrast to the years where I held a limited draw buck tag.

By evening, the fog had cleared and I found myself hunkered beneath the shelter of mature pines in a deep canyon where does frolicked carelessly during buck hunts past, yet only a few does fed in a distant wheat field. With sunlight fading, my backside urged an early hike west to a pea field to glass a timbered edge. Turns out, my backside harbors keen instinct as I quickly spotted two does and began the stalk.

With nothing more than failing light for cover, I pursued the perfect doe as she plodded along, stopping just long enough that I could settle the crosshairs. Quartering slightly away, then broadside momentarily, I squeezed the trigger on my heirloom .243 Remington 700, but the gun never fired. She moved too soon to touch off a round, forcing me to pick up and shuffle after her.

An eternity lapsed as we waltzed across the slimy harvested field, watching her body fade to a near silhouette behind the crosshairs until she finally stood perfectly broadside long enough for my index finger to activate the firing pin. Had she had turned or stepped once again, the decision was already made to pack up and hike out. Literally, not another 30-seconds of shooting light remained.

The shot was textbook, high-shoulder, dropping the year-and-a-half doe in her tracks. She fell behind a slight rise, high enough to conceal her, save for the white belly beacon. A tough season behind, I reveled in the moment, giving thanks on one knee with a hand upon her hide.

We’ve all heard it said, a trophy is in the eye of the beholder. Continuing to kneel, gently stroking her thick winter coat, I admired the blessing given for my nourishment. She was the perfect age and health, gifting our table with quality and quantity.

Reaching into my pack, I pulled a skinning knife, quartering knife and bone saw, laying them on her still ribcage. Draping my elk quarter bag across my pack frame made for clean and easy loading.

As blade struck hide, I methodically skinned from spine to knee. I can reasonably average forty-five minutes from start to finish on any given deer, precisely the longevity of my headlamp batteries this particular evening. Having triple-checked that I packed my tag apparently drained all other cognitive ability to throw in a few spare AAAs.  

Adding the final quarter and stew scraps, I tied off the quarter bag as my headlamp faded to black. With cell phone in-mouth, I secured the bag and gear to my frame pack, hoisted it to my shoulders and embarked on a moonless, black-as-a-pine-box, 45-minute hike beneath a billion glorious stars.

As a boy in Appalachia, hunting does was a way of life. Table fare and the accomplishment of the harvest was never lost on antlerless deer. Most folks I know in the west wouldn’t dare work for “just a doe”. But the harder the work, the sweeter the reward and adventure. The loss of my headlamp simply tested my navigation skills and revealed an incredible unfettered view.  

Slogging through the soft, rich mud along the field crest, I gazed at the city lights of Walla Walla to the west. The glow was faint, but bright enough to silhouette some large firs. Keeping time with a cacophony of distant coyotes, my only startle came from a small covey of Hungarian partridge busting from underfoot.

Approaching my truck, I longed for the shot of water and snack that I had stashed in the cab. Reminiscing of the hunt, I looked forward to reviewing the memories of the evening, burned timelessly into mental film for decades to come, the good Lord willing.

Sliding my pack into the bed and climbing into the driver’s seat, the Tundra roared to life, set in motion to the northeast toward home. The prospect of fresh tenderloin urging me on.

Pheasants Forever Cooperates with Local Growers to Preserve Sagebrush Habitat and Wildlife Guzzlers

Blue Mountain Pheasants Forever (Pheasants Forever) recently cooperated with the Mike and Steve Erwin to relocate two wildlife watering guzzlers on their 1,000-acre lease with an expiring Conservation Reserve Program (CRP) contract near Prescott.  

Signed into law by President Ronald Reagan in 1985, the CRP is one of the largest private-lands conservation programs in the United States. In exchange for a yearly rental payment, farmers enrolled in the program remove acreage from active crop production and reestablish native vegetation to benefit wildlife and the natural environment. CRP enrollments span approximately 14 years and can be renewed.

The Erwin brothers’ lease will be returned to active crop production, and to protect the benefits of guzzlers and other habitat features on the acreage, they reached out to Pheasants Forever with the support of the property owner.

Wanting to preserve a mature sagebrush-steppe shelterbelt, the Erwin brothers requested Pheasants Forever assistance in relocating the guzzlers from planting acreage into the shelterbelt. 

Sagebrush-steppe is rare native habitat in our corner of Washington. Sagebrush is a slow-growing shrub requiring years to reach a size capable of providing maximum habitat benefits, while sagebrush-steppe provides important food, cover and nesting habitat for many songbirds, upland birds, deer and other small mammals.

Reinstalling a wildlife guzzler among mature sagebrush to be preserved as acreage is converted from grasslands to wheat production.

Additionally, native raptors like the ferruginous hawk, a state-listed “threatened” species adapted to sagebrush-steppe habitats, can benefit from maintaining established shelterbelts as CRP acreage returns to crop production.

Guzzlers also maintain a water source for myriad wildlife throughout the summer and are designed to fill with rainwater. The “aprons” that direct water into the guzzler provide summer shade for birds and small mammals.

Pheasants Forever volunteers were able to move both guzzlers and reinstall one of them on September 27th. The second will be installed October 3rd. With installation complete, soil will be smoothed around the guzzlers and reseeded with a native grass mix.

Pheasants Forever is seeking to partner with local growers on similar projects and habitat enhancements at no cost to the grower, and now is the perfect time.

In Walla Walla and Columbia Counties, up to 253,000 acres of habitat are captured under CRP contracts set to expire between 2020 – 2022. The Erwin brothers’ project exemplifies a simple and timely effort supporting the Pheasants Forever habitat mission and local wildlife. Community members with a potential project are encouraged to contact Pheasants Forever at bmpf@bmpf258.com.

A completed guzzler install with new apron.

Memories of the Hunt – A Thanksgiving First

November 17th, 2020 – Memories of the Hunt | Harvesting Nature

“The report of the rifle ringing in my ears and the events that had previously unfolded plucked my cognizant abilities, tossing them candidly into the crisp November dusk. I felt as though I were strolling through a Pink Floyd tune, my body operating on autopilot as my mind replayed a thousand frames per second, scouring the details of the past 120 seconds.”

Thanksgiving hunts are timelessly special, particularly when family and “firsts” are involved. The emotion and exhilaration of this chubby teenager taking his first white-tailed deer, Thanksgiving 1996, inspired a lifetime of outdoor pursuits.

Read more at Harvesting Nature!

The author in his heftier youth, age 16, with the coveted first white-tailed deer.