We were poking around on chukar spots my buddy had marked the season before, and between huffs and puffs, shots and misses, I wondered: Could you spend an entire season chasing the Sasquatch icons? What might you learn about wild birds, untamed places, dogs, intriguing people and especially about yourself?
That day was about quiet, isolation and stunning scenery, volcanic castles looming, us darting among the ramparts and the chance of falling off cliff. A life-threatening descent as we pursued that imaginary beast lent savor to the first bottle of beer that night, and every step, all the climbs, each vista made the risk worthwhile.
We crossed from one state to the next busting valley quail, Huns and chukars. Sasquatch was absent but for our imagination.
That was my first acquaintance with the legendary creature that was my running buddy all season. On that trip, I marveled at Huns in all the wrong places. Crisp, dry cheat grass slopes held them. So did sandy creek bottoms and boulder fields.
I never saw a giant footprint, but I did see three-toed tracks galore, often followed by the whir of wings and that squeakygate screech of theirs.
The following week, I hauled out my old-school paper maps and scrawled Sasquatches here, there and oh yeah, there too. I marked a tangled draw north of a honey hole, a lush prairie where wild horses graze. I recalled the vague tale of a lost covert someone related over a glass. Like a magnet, it pulled me toward the unknown. Bigfoot was the perfect symbol for my season-long search for what?
On that trip, I found beauty and spectacle and learned a little more about myself.
Author André Gide said, Man cannot discover new oceans unless he has the courage to lose sight of the shore.” He was right.
Diese Geschichte stammt aus der Winter 2022-Ausgabe von The Upland Almanac.
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Diese Geschichte stammt aus der Winter 2022-Ausgabe von The Upland Almanac.
Starten Sie Ihre 7-tägige kostenlose Testversion von Magzter GOLD, um auf Tausende kuratierte Premium-Storys sowie über 8.000 Zeitschriften und Zeitungen zuzugreifen.
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Tail feathers - STANDARDS AND PRACTICES
\"An armed society is a polite society,\" the NRA says in one of its dicta, cribbed from Robert A. Heinlein, a 20th-century American science fiction writer.
Day's End - IN PRAISE OF FENCEROWS
Driving north along the Hudson River, I gazed at a pastoral autumn scene: sere fields of faded yellow harvested corn, stubbly and broken amongst the clods of black earth, almost smooth from my vantage point. Spiky brown veins of wild growth marked barriers between plots. Occasionally, the gray bones of a mature oak rose among the brown shrubs to stand over the yellow fields. A sentry, keeping silent watch as white frost crystals slowly melted into invisibility.
That Time of Year Again
Without doubt. The most idyllic form of hunting in Ohio is seeking the woodcock. - Merrill Gilfallan, Moods of the Ohio Moons: An Outdoorsman's Almanac (1991)
I Don't Wanna'!
I'm an old hand at being retired, though - have been practicing for 25 years.
Hunting the Huns: Alberta's Big Sky Country
The prairies of southern Alberta are vast, beautiful and full of prime bird habitat. Crop fields are interspersed with abandoned farms, rolling hills are intersected by coulees and creek beds, and Hungarian partridge and sharptailed grouse occupy some of the best and most picturesque habitat on the continent.
Side Dish - End of Season
Sporting trips are not only about sport, as many other experiences are discovered alongside. And my trip to Lakewood Camps in Maine was certainly just that.
AN EXTENDED STAY
There is no reason to leave Michigan in the fall unless the opportunity of a cast and blast adventure at a historic sporting lodge in Maine comes calling.
KEEP IT HANDY
If you think shooting a ruffed grouse on the wing with a shotgun is tough, try shooting one in flight with a still camera.
A Longtime Love Affair
It's possible to hunt your favorite birds in a lot of different places, I suppose, but I don't do that.
Profile of an Artist: Harley Bartlett
Harley Bartlett was born in 1959 near Pittsburg, Pennsylvania. However, having lived in Rhode Island for most of his life he considers himself a Rhode Islander.
