Boykin Waterfowl Adventures

Sharing hunting adventures with a good bird dog is a special thing and it is even more so if you're lucky enough to share them with a Boykin Spaniel.  Of course, I cannot be objective because I'm lucky enough to share my time with my Boykin, Tobey.  His zest for life is infectious.  Bird hunting is not something he likes to do; it is who he is.  No matter the weather, no matter the terrain, no matter the game, let's hunt is his moniker!

Last weekend we enjoyed an overnight waterfowl hunt at Summer Lake, Oregon.  The wind blew ferociously.  We set up our little camp above the water saturated ground in one of the primitive campgrounds that the Oregon Fish and Game has set up for hunters.  We got there at 11AM and our site selection for our two person backpacking tent would become very important later that evening.  It took us thirty minutes to finish setting up camp.  We shared a quick lunch of salami and provolone cheese on a hard roll, and went out for a jump shoot that served a dual purpose for selecting our spot for an evening shoot over decoys.  The wind was too strong for many birds to fly so we set up early in a tiny area of a small pond that was protected from the wind's fury.

Per usual, Tobey sat at the pond's edge and inquisitively watched me place out a half dozen decoys.  I purposely selected water that he'd not have to swim through to make retrieves.  At 38 pounds, I was concerned about the wind blowing him across the pond.  Believe it or not, this tiny body of water was covered in white caps.  We had just settled in behind a quickly assembled blind behind a large sagebrush plant when a brace of drake mallards appeared overhead and circled back into the wind and struggled to reach our decoys.  Now, it is my policy that no guns are loaded whenever decoys are being set or recovered and I would soon pay for my middle aged forgetfulness.  The brace of drakes edged ever closer and finally they were directly over our decoys.  I rose to my knees, Tobey prepared to launch and "Click", the firing pin on the lower barrel of my Browning Citori Lightning fell on an empty chamber.  At the sound of the metallic click, Tobey redirected his gaze from the mallards back towards me and I swear, he rolled his eyes in displeasure.  Normally, I would've gotten mad at myself but his look made me laugh at the whole event.

We ended up taking a hen ruddy duck and a hen mallard.  The wind was simply too strong for birds to fly. We pulled up stakes and had only made it to within 200 yards of my Jeep before the sky opened up with pounding wind blown rain.  I don't know about the rest of you but, towel drying my Boykin is always a rambunctious affair.  For some reason, he feels that squirming around must be part of every towel drying event.  Let me set the stage for you.  The wind blown rain was bordering on becoming sleet.  The wind's strength blew at a steady 40 MPH.  Our two person tent was getting battered as I opened the fly's zipper and called Tobey inside.  He hardly noticed the wind while he bounced around and enjoyed the "attention" from his favorite towel.  I got him inside the tent, fed and watered him, managed to pull my chest waders off while hunched over in the fly and we both settled down for the night.  Yes, Tobey is spoiled.  I have a matching set of -40 degree synthetic sleeping bags.  One is for him, and one is for me.  They zip together and make for one large sleeping bag.  Around 8PM, the wind died down and both of us slept soundly inside our joint sleeping bag. In fact, he woke me up twice during the night because he was snoring.

Fast forward to yesterday and once again, we made another memory.  Tobey made a difficult 100 yard blind retrieve on a green winged teal.  Would he have scored well on a hunt test?  No.  He's a meat hunter and I don't expect him to obey a perfect line.  Rather, I expect him to solve the problem.  Twice, I had to give him our whistle command for "back".  He has a unique way of treading water that brings his front shoulders above the water so he can see better.  On his second attempt, he spied the teal and swam straight for it. After he'd brought it to hand, he pranced around me kicking the dirt with his hind legs.  It was very obvious that he was extremely pleased with himself.

Regardless of which breed you hunt with, hunting over a well trained bird dog is a Zen like life event. Quickly, the stress and drudgery of the week will dissipate and time will stand still.  Enjoy your time afield with your canine partner.  I guarantee you, the never-ending wag of my Boykin's stub of a tail makes me a better human being.  Hunt 'em up, little buddy!

A Day on the River

There is something special about rivers especially, swift moving rivers.  They seem to be a living entity.  I don't know why but the movement of the water seems to heighten my senses.  I spent this morning enjoying some quiet time with my Boykin Spaniel, Tobey.  Those of you who've never spent hours afield with a well trained, exuberant gun dog have yet to comprehend the true vitality that is life.

The Crooked River is a tributary of the Deschutes River.  It works it's way downstream through some of Oregon's most majestic steep walled desert canyon country.  Rocky examples of Oregon's violent volcanic past jut skyward from both sides of the riverbank.  I'm not sure why but, the water that makes up this river is milky in color.  Just uphill from the riparian zone, juniper and sage take over and fight for dominance all the way to the rim of the canyon.  The river is home to healthy populations of whitefish and red banded trout. These two species are favorite table fare for a healthy population of great blue herons.  The herons are not alone.  They face competition from several mergansers, as well as, a kingfisher or two.

Thankfully, the river is also home to a healthy population of resident mallards.  These birds see lots of hunting pressure so, sneaking up on them is not an easy task.  In October, one can find gadwall and teal mixed in with the mallards.  The slower parts of the river have a healthy stock of aquatic vegetation that these birds love to dine on, which in turn, makes these ducks great table fare for my family.

During our stay on the river this morning, Tobey and I casually watched a couple of does work their way to the river's edge for a cool drink.  They drank their fill and then began feeding back uphill.  We made several stalks on bunches of mallards however; they flushed before we were within gun range.  Harvesting a bird is purely secondary to the thrill of the stalk.  Tobey is now six years old and he's learned how to stalk by my side.  I'm not sure he likes it much though.  His preference is to be ranging in front of the gun looking for game.  We crossed the river several times and worked both banks.  The sound of the wind and rushing water replenished our souls.  After three hours of the stalk, it was time to head back home.  On the drive home, I kept thinking about the power of Mother Nature.  She never ceases to amaze me.

ISIS and the West

Not too long ago, those of us who live in the Western World worried about Al Qaeda.  Now, all we hear about is the threat posed by ISIS.  We can debate how ISIS formed, why it formed, and what it wants however; I believe that all of us can agree that ISIS represents an extremist point of view.  Are they a threat to the modern world?  Yes.  How do we deal with this threat?  This is yet to be determined.

Part of the problem for the West is our inability to understand the concept of war in it's current color.  We remain mired in our learned experiences of World War I and World War II.  The European continent has a long history of nation states opposing one another in combat.  The vast majority of the inhabitants in the New World are descended from European stock and our participation in the two great world wars causes us to view the act of war as an affair between two or more nation states.  The current unrest in the Middle East is a new idea for the West or is it?

In his military treatise Vom Kriege (1832), Carl von Clausewitz stated, "We see, therefore, that war is not merely an act of policy but a true political instrument, a continuation of political intercourse carried on with other means. What remains peculiar to war is simply the peculiar nature of its means."

Whether we in the West want to accept it or not, ISIS is at war with us and political action is required. The sooner we accept this, the sooner we'll develop the means to oppose ISIS.  Regardless of where we call home, the human condition remains much the same.  All of us want the necessities of life.  We're primarily concerned with having an abode, food, water, and the means for earning currency that supports these requisites for life on Earth.  We also want our children's life experience to be better than our own.  The vast majority of us also try to adhere to the concept of the Golden Rule.

We won't defeat ISIS with bombs.  ISIS must be defeated by destroying it's roots.  They must become irrelevant amongst the populace that they live amongst.  Convince the locals that we're not all that different and ISIS will quickly become a pariah in their own homeland.  

So, how is Carl von Clausewitz's quote relevant today?  We must pursue a multi pronged political approach when dealing with ISIS.  When an opportunity affords itself, with the use of arms we must surgically remove a threat from ISIS while at the same time breaking bread with the local populace.  The threat posed by ISIS is unconventional and can only be destroyed by unconventional means. More often than not, the power of bonding on a human level with the indigenous population has more power than the use of arms.  Once the locals can identify with you as a fellow travel in life, ISIS will cease to exist. But beware, we're involved in a marathon race against ISIS so, we in the West cannot expect quick results.  It is time to roll up our sleeves and get to work.

Ferguson, Race, and Social Norms

Events in Ferguson, Missouri over the past couple of weeks have polarized America, or at least, that is what the media would have us believe.  Pundits, politicians, preachers, and police officers have all jumped on board both sides of the race train.  In reality, it is disappointing to see folks in positions of power place themselves in the limelight of a horrible event for personal agendas.  All of us can agree that we still have racial issues in the United States but, I believe that most of us can also sense there is a slight oxymoronic tinge surrounding the comments made by our President and Attorney General.  Maybe I've zoned out of late but the last time I checked, both of these fine gentlemen have African American blood coursing through their veins and the ominous cloud of racism covering our land has not prevented them from holding national positions of power.

I suggest, all of us can truly know only one thing for certain surrounding this event and that is the fact that, none of us really know what transpired on the evening that this young Black man was fatally shot.  To suggest that the police officer who shot this young man did it purely for racial reasons is to prejudge him and assume that he lacks any sense of social responsibility for his fellow man.  For myself, I would rather be quiet, watch, and listen to what happened before I sentence him.  I'd also like to know what impact the robbery had before the fatal shooting.  Was a heightened sense of fear involved?  Are the police officers in Ferguson under trained? Was this officer a relative rookie?  What is the background of the slain individual?  At the end of the day. I wonder if this is an issue best left to Ferguson or should it be the impetus for a larger national discussion?

I tend to believe that this event could serve as a social spark for self examination.  Personal freedom and liberty require a concomitant sense of social responsibility.  All of us have been taught "the Golden Rule" but, how many of us live it?  Do you spend any time thinking about your role in society?  Are you polite?  Are you selfish?  When you catch yourself being selfish (all of us are at times), do you stop and ask yourself why? Do you care about your neighbor, your family, your children's school, your co-workers, your community, your state, or your nation?  If not, why not?  Far too many of us scurry about taking care of ourselves with little thought of those around us.  Most of us could use a little time in front of the mirror.  As for me, I hope to treat my fellow man better tomorrow than I have done thus far today.  When I look at folks around me, I see fellow human beings.  On a human level, racial distinctions such as African American, Mexican American, Asian American, Native American, or Anglo American serve little purpose.  Those in power would serve us better if they strove to find national means for unification rather than highlight points of division.

Warrior Spirit

Most of humanity has no concept of what the"warrior spirit" is.  The film industry would have us believe that it involves a bloodthirsty "kill them all" attitude.  Those of us who've been in combat understand just how far from the truth this belief is.  If you want to comprehend the depth of meaning surrounding the concept of your
mortality, serve in combat with your buddies.  Combat is a deeply personal affair.  All that you've ever known about yourself will become as defined as the razor sharp edge of a well honed knife.  Combat is about the will to live, and the protection of your team mates.

Fighting units are grouped in ever larger size from the platoon up to the size of an army however; the small team is the basic building block upon which an army fights.  The human bonds at this small level are the true strength behind any military outfit.  Nobody really thinks about being heroic.  Most of us concentrate on doing our job and having our buddy's back because, you know that he's got your back.  Quite simply, we fight for the guy to our left and right.

Fear, compassion, humor and anger are common combat emotions.  You need all of them to survive.  Fear? Combat makes you very aware of the fact that the only things you truly have control over are your own actions and this can be a very scary thing to come to terms with.  Compassion?  The uninitiated amongst us are probably wondering how you can be compassionate during war?  Compassion grounds your humanity. Lose it and you risk losing yourself.  Humor?  Humor remains the most vibrant means for relieving stress. People do funny things in a stressful environment.  Having a good laugh lowers your heart rate, increases the flow of oxygen into your respiratory system and clears the mind thus enabling you to make better decisions that may end up saving your life.  Anger?  Witnessing one of your buddies get "hit" will make you angry. How you deal with it is the important thing.  Honor him by focusing on the task at hand.  It is not the killing that is important.  Achieving the mission is your paramount concern.

While serving, on many occasions I heard the saying, "Once a warrior, always a warrior."  I never truly understood the significance behind those words.  Now I find myself in my 50s and I believe I have found out why that saying is so important.  In many ways, having served in combat has defined who I am.  I can thoroughly enjoy the moment and don't spend much time wondering about what might be.  I don't often experience fear or anger these days but I sure am focused on humor and compassion.  I would lose myself if I didn't enjoy a good laugh every day and spend time with family and friends.  Silently, I stand in the background and reminisce on where I've been, what I've seen, and take strength in the fact that I am a warrior.

Wilderness Adventures

I don't know how most folks feel but, in today's fast paced world of techno gadgets, the gravitational pull of the wilderness grows ever stronger.  Technology tends to make us lose sight of the feeble footprint all of us will leave upon this earth's surface once we're gone.  Don't get me wrong, I too am enamored with the power of technology.  My personal library exists within the confines of my Barnes & Noble Nookbook. Even worse, I take this virtual book with me when I head into the bush.  My workdays also seem to revolve around the message traffic on my iphone.  However, sometimes all of us need to escape.

If you want to feel truly "small" head into the backcountry.  The wilderness has a way of making all of us face our mortality.  I'm lucky enough to call Central Oregon home and the Three Sisters Wilderness Area is a mere 35 miles from my driveway.  A day's hike along the glaciated ridgelines of the South Sister will sooth the soul.  You'll quickly realize just how much you miss in the fast paced urban world down below.  Little things become very important.  Take the boisterous chipmunk for example.  Sharing your lunch with an inquisitive chipmunk can be an interesting affair.  I'm not sure if a chipmunk knows that it can walk for I've never seen one attempt it.  The name of the game for them is, run.  Of second importance is, defend your turf.  I also believe that all chipmunks have the "beggar" gene.  I've yet to find one who didn't feel that what I considered to be mine was in reality their property.

If you get the chance, find a secluded spot along the ridgeline and get out of the wind.  Pull out your e-reader and attempt to read.  If your experience mirrors mine, you'll quickly lose interest in whatever you are reading. More than likely, your eyes will lock onto the invisible thermal laden path of the hawk soaring far above your perch.  Where did he come from?  What has he seen?  Where is he going?  Is he lonely?  What does it feel like to soar?  Now, all you need to do is lay flat on your back, close your eyes, and deeply inhale.  Try to identify the smell of pine and spruce.  Listen to the subtle fluctuations in the tonality of the breeze. Concentrate on the hawk.  If you try hard enough, you can become the hawk.  Do this and you'll rejuvenate your soul.  Of course, it is also prudent to be ready for that pugnacious chipmunk telling you to get the heck off his log.

Head into the wilderness and find yourself.  You'll be glad you did.

Nature, an Ever Consistent Wonderful Reality

It is far too easy these days to become enraptured with our fast paced technological world.  Smart phones, tablets, e-readers, desktops, laptops, apps galore, what is next?  It is a marvel that humanity can still carry on a conversation with one another.  I'm still trying to discover the value behind the "hashtag".  We used to count our friends with our fingers, but now, we just make them our friends with a simple press of a button on Facebook.  I've yet to discover just how to really relate with another person without getting to observe their non verbal language.  The human face is full of subtle nuances.  Just what does it mean to "like" something anyway?

Yesterday my mind swirled with thoughts such as these while riding a chairlift after having completed yet another ski run.  Mt Bachelor was busy and there were long waiting lines to get onto the chair.  It was amazingly quiet in the lift lines.  Most folks were either perusing something on their smart phone or listening to music pounding through tiny earphones.  Just when you think mankind has lost it's mind, someone or something will bubble to the surface that lends hope for all of us.  On one ride, I sat quietly and listened to a young couple gently rib one another.  They were obviously full of young mirthful love.  It was a pleasurable joy to pretend I was not on the chair next to them.

Have you ever wondered what Mother Nature thinks about human chaos?  She probably doesn't even notice it.  She's far too busy creating beauty.  The skiing yesterday was truly gorgeous.  Mt Bachelor had received a massive amount of snow last week and then it misted for a day; after which, cold temperatures set in. The ungroomed icy parts of the mountain glistened in the bright sunshine.  The snow's frozen surface made for fast squirrel footing and the little imps were out in force.  How is it that a squirrel can always seem feisty and exuberant to be alive?  I skied off into the trees to take a leak and just when I was about to write my name in the snow, the occupant of the tree under which I was hiding decided to let me know, "Hey pal, you're not going to do THAT right under my home!  Find another tree to pollute!"  Later in the afternoon, I spent some time skiing Mt Bachelor's legendary Cow's Face run.  Cow's Face is an ungroomed, above treeline run that you can access from the Summit lift.  The sun was warm and the snow was soft.  Corn snow skiing in January!  I skid it three times.  On my second run I stopped, took off my skis, set up a comfortable rock seat, and sat down to enjoy a couple of granola bars and a cool draught of fresh water.  I had barely settled in when a large raven flew in for a chat.  His plumage was marvelous.  Ravens are a large bird that are lucky enough to enjoy long lives.  I wondered what he'd seen during his life?  I wished he could tell me what the Cascade Range looks like while skimming over the tree tops?  What does he think about people?  He just sat there on his rocky perch and watched me watching him.  It was as if his eyes were peering into my soul. I've always loved ravens and it was so special to have one stop by and share a quiet moment.

Just what had made this day so special?  I turned my cell phone off when I was in the parking lot putting on my ski gear.  I never would have noticed the varying textures of the snow surface, pristine skies, rock formations, weather tormented scrub evergreens that try in vain to grow large above the real treeline, or my squirrel and raven friends.  I suggest that all of us merely press the "power off" button once in awhile and open our eyes to the marvelous world we call home.