The Arrival of Fall: Elk and Blue Grouse

With the shimmering orange of an eastern Oregon sunrise over the Wallowa Mountains, this morning marks the official opening of the archery season. It has taken a little over 11 months to get here but the time has come to go out in search of elk and ultimately, success. And, with hours put in next to my trailer, the lone arrow I have left is flying true and any worries about missing my mark are past. But there is something else driving me today, something besides chasing elk that has me up at night. It’s September 1^st, the Saturday that is but a week away, and the day that marks the beginning of yet another season. It the opener for forest grouse and blue grouse in particular, are most definitely on my mind.

For most people scanning the woods this September their sole focus will be on elk. They will search high and low for those flecks of brown breaching the timber lines and listen for the thunderous crack of a branch breaking in the distance. It will heighten their senses and drive them deeper and deeper into the darkness of the forest. But while most will put all their energy towards this task, I will be walking in the back, scanning the trees with equal vigor. I will be searching for a bird that few see and every fewer bring home. A bird that is not only elusive but quick to disappear once discovered. Not just any bird, but a grouse.

Instead of looking for shades of brown I will search for hues of dark blue and black, lurking in the shadows of firs and pines; waiting for the slight movement that will give them away right before the crash of needles and the thrust of their bodies downhill. It is their moment of vulnerability and a window that is hard to take advantage of. It is a moment when the birds and their secretive homes will be exposed.

For many, including myself, the archery season provides its own unique challenges while seeking out grouse. There will surely be a point during the next month that I leave my bow behind and head out with my 870 to spend an afternoon pushing along ridgelines however, for the most part I will be confronting these birds with only my bow and that means an extra level of care must be taken to bring them down. I have now heard too many stories over the past two years that would suggest if you’re going to take down a grouse you’d better hit it in the head or shoulder, otherwise you can kiss the grouse, and your arrow, goodbye; flying and fluttering a thousand feet below you in a matter of seconds. It will take precise and accurate shots, knowing that your second chance will not come. Oh how I welcome the challenge.

I think I revel in the task not simply because it will test my skill with the bow but moreover, it is because I have such immense respect for the birds, that the challenge is that much more inviting. They are fast, cunning, solid, and live high up in surrounding mountains. A task that seems better suited for mountain goats and well aged bull elk. But they make their living on the rocks and under the trees, the chukar of the forest if you will. And it is because of their hearty nature that I am driven to chase them and seek out success. It is because they pose such a formidable front and can fly past you in the blink of an eye that I feel myself almost drawn to them. It’s a little crazy, but a lot of fun.

So, while today marks a day for elk, it is now under a week until blue grouse will be fair game as well. It will undoubtedly make the trips into the woods twice as exciting and with every flicker of a branch, every brush of a leaf, I will look around for those shades of brown, blue, and black. I will lock onto them with ever vigilant eyes and pull my bow back. Elk or blue grouse, either way, it will be my first. What more could anyone ask for?

Pushing Beyond the Pain: Taking on the Beast

The pains that we will endure during these upcoming months will without doubt be the most enjoyable pains we have ever experienced. They will be the pains associated with mountain climbing, elk watching, dog following, and early alarms. We are drawn to the pain like a bug to a midnight lantern. It’s calling to us like a beacon in the night, so very close and pushing us so very hard to reach out. However, there will be moments when we find ourselves weak and weary from the day’s events, forced to lean on a large rock and dream of a warm shower. But those are the moments that we must fight through, overcome, triumph over, because in the end, it will be the worst pains that lead to the greatest successes. And isn’t that one of the goals when the season begins? Success?

Hunting provides us with an unparalleled outlet. It’s a chance to prove that we can still head out in the blackness of a cold fall morning and make something of ourselves. Prove to ourselves that we are not some pampered race that only survives within the confines of our man-made dwellings but that are still our ancestors offspring. Prove that while we may choose a life that has many advantages, we can still get down to the raw basics of human instincts and bring home some well earned meat.

There is no denying that we have been given modern rifles, compound bows, and state of the art shotshells, but we must still go out and seek our prey; seek the prize and at the same time test ourselves. There are only so many roads out there and for the many hunters like James and I, which put great value on a trip through the backcountry, your endurance will be pushed to limit. You will climb mountains that seem to touch the sky, walk through snow with water logged boots, the feeling in your toes gone hours before. Your eyes will wander when not a single animal has been seen all day, but we will not stop. And by pressing on, moving forward, we will test the capabilities of not only the human body, but the human mind.

With the archery season less than two weeks away I feel that I have much to do to prepare. My shooting aside, which has unfortunately gone AWOL (not fun by the way), I know that besides hitting my mark, I must first track down the elk that I seek, and in this country, that is no small task. There are rocky ridges to climb, lingering summer temperatures to deal with, and legs to be tested. Ever since early summer I have been forced to put any long hiking aside to deal with some personal issues in my life. Ones that have kept me away from the hills and mountains that in the past have molded my legs into steel and expanded my lungs to take on the challenge. But since our spring bear season my life has been turned upside down and I have not done the things I need to cover the ground I want. However, that does not mean I will not cover it all the same.

For myself, and everyone out there, endurance and pain are not simply physical, they are a state of mind. William James is quoted as saying, “Beyond the very extreme of fatigue and distress, we may find amounts of ease and power we never dreamed ourselves to own; sources of strength never taxed at all because we never push through the obstruction”. In this he implies that we must only tackle our minds to experience our true potential, the true potential of our bodies. We are so often derailed from where we want to go or what we want to accomplish because we simply can’t get past the mental hurdle. We feel the pain and the fear begins to set in. It takes over like a cancer, infecting your mind and radiating pain to all your extremities. And that is when the decision has to be made. You can either give in to the pain, or fight it, break through, and take yourself beyond your known limits. And that is not to imply you need to be some superhuman, or that by doing so you will tackle Mt. Everest, but when you begin to take on the things you fear most, like pain, you begin to tackle yourself and your limits. From there, the possibilities, and distances you can cover, are endless.

An excerpt that has inspired me and subsequently this post comes from the book, “Born to Run” by Christopher McDougall, which reads:

Strictly by accident, Scott (Jurek) stumbled upon the most advanced weapon in the ultrarunner’s (or in our case, hunter’s) arsenal: instead of cringing from fatigue, you embrace it. You refuse to let it go. You get to know it so well, you’re not afraid of it anymore. Lisa Smith-Batchen, the amazingly sunny and pixie-tailed ultrarunner from Idaho who trained through blizzards to win a six-day race in the Sahara, talks about the exhaustion as if it’s a playful pet. “I love the Beast”, she says. “I actually look forward to the Beast showing up, because every time he does, I handle him better. I get him more under control.” Once the Beast arrives, Lisa knows what she has to deal with and can get down to work. And isn’t that the reason she’s running through the desert in the first place – to put her training to work? To have a friendly little tussle with the Beast and show it who’s boss? You can’t hate the Beast and expect to beat it; the only way to truly conquer something, as every great philosopher and geneticist will tell you, is to love it.

I couldn’t have said it better myself. I head into this season unprepared but hold tight with the knowledge that when the burning begins and the pain starts to present itself, I will not let it defeat me. I will not let it stand between me and the animal I seek. There is too much at stake and I have been there before. The time is here.

 Now, who’s ready for the fall?

Boys to Men: Little Changes As We Grow Old

A fish, a fish, what a wonderful fish,

Bringing you home is all that I wish,

Where do you hide I surely must know,

To find you beneath I must search through the flow,

Your red and yellows and purples and blues,

Are only a spectrum of your beautiful hue,

I cast my line and begin to wait,

The basket I carry will be your fate,

But try as I may and try as I might,

Elusive you are and further my plight,

A fish, a fish, what a wonderful fish,

Bringing you home is all that I wish.

Coast to Coast and Back Again

As I took to the open road last month I began a journey that was long overdue. It was a journey that I had taken in my youth and one that I barely remember but will never forget. Now, a little bit wiser and a little bit older, I began that journey again and, with a new outlook, tried to fully immerse myself in the experience. It was on this journey that I would delve into the inner workings on our country and peel back its many layers. It was a chance to discover America, a chance to learn about it hunters.

I made my maiden voyage across the country when I was 13 and it was the first time I had ever seen the world outside the northeast. Back then I was almost unaware of where I was going or what I was doing. It seemed only natural that a family should want to explore the country they lived in. But now, just shy of 30 and having lived out west for nearly three years, I began this trip again, with a new perspective; the perspective of growing up in the east, traveling the west, and settling down in Oregon. The first time I crossed the country I saw many landscapes, people, and places, but on this trip, I “saw” the landscapes, people, and places. And they were beautiful.

My destination was New England, the unique region I called home for the bulk of my early life. It was the place I lived and the place I love. It’s where I met many great friends and went to university. It is a place I will forever hold dear and returning after so many years was a little overwhelming, but wonderful. Even now I smile thinking about it. Of course, as I sit here today I find it hard not to write and reflect on the journey I took with a most sentimental viewpoint, but I must focus, and remember that this is a hunting blog and that if I care to write about my “journey”, I best find myself another outlet.

Sentiments aside, what I can reflect on is what was constantly going through my mind as I made the crossing and that was the incredible diversity of habitats that define our states. The myriad of wooded pockets, wet meadows, dry grasslands, and massive hardwood forests that make up this country are truly spectacular. To see each of them and imagine the hunters that disappear into their clutches provided me with endless entertainment throughout the trip. The places encouraged me to take photos, not to be framed or heralded as some great landscape photographs, but rather to remind me of what I had seen and where I had been.

When I entered Montana I thought of all the places you could find (or lose) yourself; one moment you could be in the flats, grasses as far as the eye could see. The next, running along a river bottom, looking at perhaps some of the best fly fishing one could ever ask for. Moving up you could find yourself in snow covered mountains chasing elk and then in an instant, back down in rolling fields pushing you dog after sharp-tailed grouse.

The South Dakota grasslands spread a glowing yellow as far as the eye could see. Minnesota’s cornfields and waterways had me dreaming of mallards. Wisconsin wetlands and dense vegetation made me feel as if I were in some exotic land and Pennsylvania immediately reminded me of why I love the east so much with hardwoods on a goliath scale. New England (CT, RI, MA, VT, NH, ME) was everything I remembered with the ocean breeze drifting into the diverse forests.

As I returned west I crossed the Mississippi River, thinking of all the men whose blood, sweat, and tears have made it what it is today. Nebraska’s landscape had me dreaming of upland birds and Wyoming was almost synonymous with antelope. Idaho’s canyons and sagebrush brought me back to what I love and as I crested the hills into Oregon, the Elkhorn Mountains rose above the clouds and reminded me of why I love living where I do today.

Driving across I kept thinking to myself, there is some guy or gal out there that knows this particular spot like the back of their hand. An area that others have sworn off as no good or worthless may likely be a treasure for another. I imagine some old fellow laughing on his rocking chair, smoking his pipe, and telling his grandchildren stories of the most mythical kind. But he would not be exaggerating and his in depth of knowledge would soon be passed down for generations to come; knowledge that only comes through years of experience and countless days in the backwoods.

It is these unique landscapes that make the effort to perfect your hunting abilities impossible. It’s like trying to find the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. You may often in your life be very close, believing you know where the end is, but when you push forward the colors will disappear and you will have to start again. Really, it’s what makes it all the better.

As for the place we live, we keep pursuing that rainbow. We keep working and working to get better and better and learn the landscape with our eyes closed. I suppose that is one of the main reasons we all don’t like moving so much. Perhaps it is simply for the fact that you get to know a place and you get comfortable. You get to know the hills, the tree lines, the peaks. You get to know the pockets of sagebrush, the best bunchgrass spots and when we are forced to move we are forced to ponder how we will learn a new area. But that is perhaps what makes hunting and this country so great. You can grow up your whole life and hunt in a given region but by moving, you may be right back on your ass at square one. However, using the skills and knowledge you have acquired through the years you can put your mind and body to work again and begin anew, discovering new places and new styles of hunting. Is there any better or more fitting challenge for the most avid of hunters?

The challenges out there are many. We will never stop growing and hunting, in the end, is all about growth. We learn to do this or that, stop here or push by there. We learn to listen to the woods, read the grass, feel the rivers. And we do these things so that we can progress as hunters. So that when we do cross state lines to hunt we bring with us our most sophisticated weapon, our brain. We walk into the new landscape and understand that while we may be unsure of the physical challenges, we know that mentally, we are ready for the test. We are ready to be challenged. We are ready to adapt. Ready to grow.