Quiet Noise

As I open my eyes this morning I look over to check the time and quickly remember that I am not in my trailer. I begin to move and within an instant I hear a repetitive thumping on the floor. A second later there are two pairs of black eyes looking down at me. No, it’s not a nightmare, but I am just as unlikely to move as if it really was. The thumping is Farley’s tail on the floor, his one and only movement in the morning when he knows I am up, and the eyes belong to Emma and Smokey, the two high energy bird dogs I have the privilege of sitting for the next five days.

I am sleeping on the floor and I know that at this point, any sudden or exaggerated movements will almost certainly ignite a firestorm of activity. I slowly check my watch, it’s 6:10 AM, there’s no hope, and they’re onto me. A flurry of tails and rapid breathing now fill every inch of space around me. This is way too much chaos for me on a Saturday morning. Time to get up.

After some laboring I’m able to get my shoes on and as soon as I open the door the dogs are out. I step outside to a cool, crisp morning with new snow blowing out of the east. The morning noise is exactly what I need to calm me down. It’s not the kind of noise that everyone can hear or appreciate. In fact, the compilations of sounds are actually very quiet. They’re neither loud nor soft, yet they’re as clear as anything you’ve ever heard. The noise or lack thereof is making me smile and it’s exactly what I believe all breeds of hunters seek out. Whether that person is sitting in a freezing cold duck blind or getting ready to chase birds through the sagebrush, it’s the quiet that only comes when you get away from modern world.

When you close your eyes you find yourself hearing noises that most others are too busy to stop and appreciate. The wind blows through and you hear the rustle of the brush around you. You hear songbirds start to stir and then, a crack in the woods ahead, everyone goes still. Waterfowl hunters hear quacking off in the distance and lower their heads. The turkey hunter catches a faint gobbling over the next ridge and crouches down. Theses noises don’t break the quiet, they simply serve to enhance it. Now you start taking in even more. Suddenly you hear leaves shaking together and you begin to look for movement. The quacking is now accompanied by the faint sound of whistling as ducks pass by high overhead. The gobbling of toms now comes from two different directions. These noises are the ones that drive us to go out, that make us want to be out before the sun rises. Before a single shot has even been fired we’ve taken away more from that experience than we could have had we taken the entire day and done something else.

The noise is not something everyone can hear though. In today’s day and age the thought that you can just stop and listen is often lost on many. We now live in a world where we are more in-tuned to hearing the distant ringtone from our cell phones in the other room than we are to the natural world around us. And for many of the people out there, were you to put them in a situation where they were forced to listen, as we choose to do every time we go out hunting, they would very likely not hear the world around them like we do.

That is the quiet I heard when I stepped outside this morning. Those are the noises that never fail to calm me when everything else around me is in chaos. In the early morning light those noises let us know that success is within our grasp; that today might end with your reward in one hand and a glass of whisky in the other. But then again, even if the reward eludes us on this day, the whisky will still be sweet and tomorrow morning you get to do it all over again. You get to go out and listen to the world. That, in and of itself, is the true reward.

Finding the Inner Bird Dog

As I download the first of what we hope are many videos, I can already begin to see the possibilities of our new camera. From videos of us up in the mountains to hunting birds in the uplands, we hope the footage will serve to enhance the overall dynamic. More importantly however, the video is about capturing what the little brown dog does. His progression and development as a bird dog was really the inspiration for the use of such technology and his ever growing status in the bird community has been clear for us to see. Now, capturing that somehow has become our mission.

Recently, we’ve been out chasing huns with the little one. Farley, as he is known, is no pure-bred, high powered bird dog, he’s not grown from some European stock and he’s never had any formal training, but he’s motivated, focused, and ready to go. The second we hit the gravel roads his head is up. He starts whining a little and no doubt realizes the hunt is close. James and I laugh a bit about him. He wasn’t always this way. He used to barely lift his head above the dash, but tough love and 15 months later, we’ve got ourselves a bird dog in training.

His lack of real dog drive was perhaps never as apparent to me as it should have been until I met James. With an aptitude for telling it like it is, James quickly brought to my attention that my little brown dog was lacking in some basic dog toughness. While he had a serious drive when it came to squirrels, little else was ever of much interest. He’d sleep on truck rides, walk away from fresh meat, and run around without much purpose. For him, flushing birds was certainly not in the picture.

His predecessor, Scooby, was James’s dog and the original brown. We often acknowledge that Scooby would not have stood for this behavior and perhaps it was his spirit that we needed. So we worked on the little guy, encouraged him to pursue his inner dog, and while the process was slow, he soon learned that with a little patience and a good nose, the birds that once eluded him and got away, had begun to fall. Now, not just his inner dog, but his inner bird dog, had come to life. What a year. Out of the ashes a bird dog had arisen and while we admit, he’s still rough around the edges, he’s young, and the drive is there.

Since the bird season ended last month the camera has now become the center of our focus. How do we start to capture this on film? How do we capture a little mutt dog’s ability to find birds? After some searching I found a little place just outside of town where a few coveys of huns have settled in. I’ve been up there with the dog several times now but without a gun in hand it seems Farley thinks we are just walking around. I try to motivate him, try to get his attention, but the local cottontails are doing a much better job. I need some focus! But then it happens. I break through some sagebrush and two huns bust out in opposite directions. Excitement! I’m able to bring the dog under control and we head off to track down one of the solos.

The camera has no screen so it’s my best guess as to the direction of the lens. I’m trying to bring him under control, “Waaaiiit….waaaiiit….hooold”. Filled with excitement Farley can barely hold back and the search is on. Within a minute he has the scent. I see his tail begin to stiffen and move back and forth, back and forth, crooked in the middle and moving with high degree of purpose. He’s birdy, here we go. His path begins to get tighter, and tighter, and then a turn...he stops…”BOOM”, a single partridge flushes up and the camera is rolling, I’m ecstatic! Did I just get that? Our first video! I hope it came out! The culmination of weeks of discussion, what a feeling! I hope it came out! Way to go little brown!

Pure Satisfaction.

Video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6-vq-XL3NqE&feature=youtu.be

In Search of Cougars

Although winter still has its hold over us here in the northwest, the end is within sight and with the warmer weather we have hopes of new outdoor opportunities. We need something that will allow us to stretch our legs, somewhere to explore, so I meet up with James in town to talk about going out for a weekend cougar hunt. As we lean back on our respective trucks we begin to discuss some of our upcoming moves and while I’ve never thought about cougars, the bird season has ended and I am growing ever more antsy to get out again. So, after much time discussing odds and reviewing units we set into motion a plan for Sunday. Quickly, the preperations are underway and we tentatively cross our fingers. On Sunday we head out. I can’t wait.

I think for two east coast boys growing up in our respective areas, the lifestyle changes that have befallen us are much welcome and certainly exciting. Although James is older than I am and has no doubt experienced much more in his time, I think what we both appreciate is where we are today; a beautiful place where within an hour we can be completely disconnected.

I’m sitting here laying out my clothes for tomorrow’s 5:00 AM start. It’s going to be cold and snowy up near Mt. Emily so I pack my gators, extra socks, and a good oil laden jacket. James is bringing down his rifles, a .30-06 and a .243. I pack two cameras in hopes of getting a shot of something amazing and sit back, barely able to sleep…it’s like Christmas Eve.

The best part for me, and I’d imagine James feels the same way, is thinking about all the people we know back east. It’s Saturday night for all of us, but in reality, we are worlds apart. There is a different feel to the night. I’d imagine that the friends I had in high school are probably getting ready to go out to New York City bars where the music will be loud and the lights bright. They’ll no doubt enjoy themselves, head home, and wake up feeling satisfied. They’ll head off to brunch the next morning and reminisce about the night’s happenings, having never really given any thought to the next day. For us, the night will be filled with anticipation and attention to detail. Tomorrow we wake up before dawn and head off into the forest. We don’t have much of a plan once we get there, but the objective is very clear, find cats.

The night is calling for new snow and the idea of fresh tracks is enough to keep my eyes glued open. We’ll venture off into the woods, walk quietly and try to tap into the senses that evolution long ago dulled. With rifles in hand we’ll eye the ridges and be ever cautious of the woods around us. We don’t hunt to cater to others, we don’t hunt to puff our chests out…we hunt because of the challenge. Whether it's shooting a flushing bird or tracking a cougar, it’s the raw nature of it, and the test to make everything we do when we’re out there, count.

Tomorrow, many people will wake up, head off to brunch, and watch a Sunday movie. Tomorrow, we head into the forest, dark and deep, but filled with mystery and adventure. I can’t wait, I can’t sleep, 10 hours to go.