I got my first lesson in conservation as a boy, the age of four. Well, maybe not my first lesson, but the first I could remember. My grandfather would carry me atop his shoulders in the farmland woodlots of the Shenandoah Valley, Virginia, as we hunted squirrels with a .22 caliber rifle. And there was no shortage of squirrels.
The bag limit was six in those days, but we never once killed more than three. When I asked grandpa why we would stop hunting before taking our limit, he replied “We only take what we can eat. Leave a few for the next hunt.”
The harvest is the obvious measure of success, and taking a limit of any game provides a rewarding sense of pride and accomplishment. But should the measure of success be the harvest of game, and should we portray taking a limit as the Holy Grail of a hunt?
⇑⇑ Lynnhill’s Finnigan with our first ever limit of Washington roosters. ⇑⇑
Poetry in Motion
Sailing across the Palouse, my Llewellin Yuba’s vigorous tail feathering wafted in the breeze, as did her soft, black ears as she bounded. The day was blossoming with the promise of a rare, bluebird morning in late fall. Rich, golden sun rays shown thick across the chilled landscape as if viewed through a Mason jar of honey.
Bounding toward the cusp of the ridgeline, Yuba slowed to a halt, crept up a few feet, and locked into the most beautiful point a setter fanatic could ask for. With tail held high, sunlight streaming through her feathering, her gaze set hard on the short grasses ahead. Approaching the edge, the backdrop was breathtaking. A narrowly carved valley opened up with the dappling of milky green sage and rabbitbrush among the variety of fawn-colored grasses, spent vetches, and basalt outcrops set against the cotton candy pink of the distant horizon with a blue ribbon on top.
Shuffling into Yuba’s fixed gaze, a covey of Huns levitated from the bunchgrass, then bailed over the ridgeline like a cinnamon cloud burst. Mesmerized by the moment, my Fox double trained on the stragglers a little too late. The entire covey floated into the next draw as we looked on from behind, the sun warm against our backs.
Moving on in search of singles and roosters, not a bird one reached my vest that morning. I didn’t care. I got exactly what I went for.
⇑⇑ Yuba with a bird pinned. This is what every pointing dog owner lives for. The result of the point is mere icing on the cake. ⇑⇑
Sweetening the Pot
In my Uplander Lifestyle blog post, “Anticipate the Flush“, I made a firm statement on the climax of an upland bird hunt.
“Probably the most rewarding experience of bird hunting is approaching for the flush and seeing confidence ablaze in the dog’s eyes. When her whole body is locked and loaded, she glances up at you, then back to the precise location as you approach. Both hunter and pointer anticipating the flush.”
The hunt itself, that poetry in motion cast on a perfect canvas, calls upland hunters more than any other in my experience. And the stats don’t lie here either. Project Upland’s fall 2019 survey elucidated that approximately 75% of ALL uplanders are drawn to the prospect by the dogs. Its more than a game. It’s a partnership between hunter and canine. The search for that moment of purity, perfection and connection can only be found in the uplands.
⇑⇑ Releasing the dog is to embark on an upland journey together. Each day is new with various challenges, success and failures. Birds are a bonus. ⇑⇑
More often than not (for most bird hunters), the hunt results in bird(s) in the vest. But is a bird in hand really worth two in the bush? I proffer that it merely sweetens the pot. It’s not necessarily the bird that draws us afield, but the orchestration of the hunt. One could argue that the hunt is meaningless without the bird, and with that I agree. But I am not the only uplander who would volunteer with alacrity for a catch-and-release opportunity. To marvel over the bird and a job well done, then simply return it to Mother Nature to be hunted again another day.
Enduring the Social Scene
Social media is a blessing and a curse. The incredible photography is inspiring and evocative, but brilliant displays of the harvest can unintentionally overemphasize the kill. And for upland bird hunters, pushing a limit sets a high bar, particularly for those new to the field.
Hunting wild birds on public land is a challenge in itself. The vast majority of my hunts end with a single bird; the next most common result being bird-less. I rarely take multiple birds or a mixed bag. That’s not to say that my opportunities are really that rare. Wingshooting ability is certainly at play. But an end-of-the-day photo of a dog sitting behind a tailgate stacked with birds is an unlikely outcome on public lands, generally speaking.
Every uplander revels in the moment, cradling in hand the most beautifully plumed species the uplands have to offer, particularly when taken over flawless dog work. But emphasis on harvest can reduce the significance of the hunt itself.
The instant gratification of social media and the desire the be “Instafamous” puts tremendous pressure on performance. What’s more is that for an up-and-comer to the upland realm, social media has the potential to stunt one’s confidence in their young dog, etc. Once new to the upland scene myself, seeing other folks in my area continually posting photos of birds and boasting limits set me back a couple years in having 100% confidence in the ability of my setters. Only after some particularly good hunts in the same season did I understand that when my girls weren’t finding birds, there were no birds to be found.
⇑⇑ Setters doing setter things. No better reason to take up upland hunting! ⇑⇑
Occupy the Canvas
Worry not of the success of others on social media. The best uplanders out there offer a holistic approach to upland hunting from the significance of carrying an heirloom shotgun, to the memories of grouse camp, hunting with family, and a stylish canine on staunch point.
Utilize social media to seek the inspiration and learning from your upland brethren. Revel in their successes and reach out to expand your knowledge and opportunities.
Never lose sight of the significance of the hunt. Boots on the ground behind your own dog or among your favorite coverts with that particular, familiar scattergun in hand is the setting for any work of upland art.
Push the limits of your body and the terrain (with your dog’s conditioning and health in mind). Cherish the days afield with an empty vest or meager single as much as the truly epic moments. Immerse yourself in the beauty and innocence of Mother Nature’s canvas. Chase the Flush!
⇑⇑ A picture is worth 1,000 words. Yuba has a rooster pinned here. Her tail feathering was so full of houndstongue seeds that it hurt too bad to present a high flagging tail on point. Her eyes told the whole story, and capturing this image was worth far more than the rooster my buddy bagged over her just moments later! ⇑⇑