Todd Duncan Tennyson
Well-known member
After the Grouse opener and before the general Centerfire season for deer starts, I Like to get out with my old boy Alex, for a trip to hunt the ridges and creeks out in the Blue Mountains.
It is nice out there during this time of the year, not a hot blast furnace, and not so cold that the dog bowl freezes up.
I asked ol’ Alex if he was up for it, and he said, “sure, load up the truck and lets go”.
So I did.
Drove until about midnight to our spot and realized that we were all alone.
I’d left pavement and lights about 10 miles back and had come to our spot that we’ve hunted from for the last 10 years or so.
We got out of the truck to make water and looked up.
“They have better stars out here, and lots more of em”, Alex mentioned.
We set the alarm clock for 0530 hrs and got some rest.
Coyotes voiced all night long. There must have been at least 10 of them split up into 3-4 different groups that sang and called periodically throughout the night and into dawn.
Alex growled as one woke him with its calling, “noisy little bastards, I’d like to get ahold of you” he grumbled… “Easy boy, get back to sleep” I said.
Soon the alarm was ringing and we were ready to roll. I had my vest, my big camera, my shells, a 2 litre bottle of water, an extra choke tube, 1 mitten, and my sidearm.
I got out of the truck and it felt like all the gear weighed more than it did in the past few years. Alex wolfed down his food and was out of the truck running and sniffing..
I hollered “slow down old man, you better save some of that fresh energy for the hike back”. “Would you come on, you always just drag along”. He countered.
Soon we crossed the 1st canyon, there was water in the tub, so alex loaded up.
Seems to be one hell of a berry crop this year.
Things looked good , the sun was starting to rise and the air was cool and crisp.
The coyotes had stopped calling and the flickers were starting to look for bugs.
Even the monks were up and out, and Alex can never turn down a monk.
It bolted under a downed tree,
Alex was hot on it, his tail swishing like an out of control windmill fan.
He clawed at the snag and dug under and around it.
“You can get him, don’t give up” I encouraged.
As the old boy stuck his head in the hole, out ran the monk from the other side and off to more cover.
“Good try Alex, lets go get some birds” I said.
We took a shortcut across a wide tabletop of a ridge so we could work the spots where the grouse come in the mornings to get sunshine and hoppers.
It sure seemed like a long ways to get to the edge of the flats.
Finally, we made it.
It is an awesome thing to see the sun light up a ridge.
We stopped to rest a moment.
“There is a river far below, do you remember hiking down to it to get some water back 5 or 6 years ago” Alex asked.
“I sure do buddy, but with my blown out ankles, we’d better take it slow and work these ridges”. I replied.
Alex said, “I smell smoke”. I noticed it too, and soon it became thicker and thicker.
We hit the ridges and busted a few blues, I walked behind Alex and into a grassy swale where there were always birds, and sure enough they erupted from cover and headed down the hill, I mounted the little 20ga and nearly fired,
but let them fly when I heard them call their alarm calls.
“What is wrong with you Man” Alex snorted as he looked back in confused amazement. “Fire” he yelped.
“Those are Huns buddy, didn’t you hear them call and chirp when they took off? We have to wait another month for them”.
We were happy to see some birds on the ridge at least.
Alex and I started the long trek back to the truck along the ridge and over the flats. It was starting to clear up some from the smoke, and soon I could birds calling.
From far off in the distance, and through the smoke. It sounded like Cranes.
Alex and I took a rest along the edges and I pointed them out to him. “Hey, you are right, Sandhill cranes” he said.
It was starting to get pretty warm and we needed water, I didn’t bring enough for both of us for such a long trek, so I gave mine to Alex.
Alex said, “Hey, you don’t have to do that, I will make it”.
I countered, “Just drink it up buddy, you are the one in the black fur coat”.
Alex decided to roll in the grass.
“this cheatgrass seed gets into my coat and then tickles my skin”
After a much longer hike than I remember from previous seasons, we made it back to our truck.
I was wiped, and Alex was too.
I dropped a huge bomber of Ibuprofen, and gave Alex his dog version of it.
Then I glopped on a whole bunch of Bag balm on his footpads.
He seems to feel better with it on his tired feet.
We decided to lay low and listen to the radio and I even fell to sleep in the shade under a giant ponderosa.
No one came by,
no one had been in the area all day.
We were enjoying ourselves.
Alex is a connoisseur of camp food.
Fried Chicken, Jo Joes, pretty much anything from caviar to corn dogs.
He knew there was good stuff to be had, and we had our late lunch/early dinner. (I gave the old boy the fried chicken skin, because he likes it so much).
We’d had a great day, ruffled a few feathers , and covered a vast amount of territory.
I was able to mess around with the gps, and find some places on the map that my father had mentioned to me, where he used to hunt deer back 40 years ago.
There were damages, My left ankle is still messed up and started to swell dispite being braced and in tighly laced boots.
Alex hunts hard, and works hard.
Despite our injuries, we looked forward to the next day.
I took this ghostly photo of the sunrise.
It was pretty smoky from the forest fire.
We had our breakfast, laced the braces tighter than before, and stumbled into the smoky morning.
All the brush was in various stages of turning
Ol’ Alex charged into them with a renewed enthusiasm from such an effort the previous day.
Steep canyons make for quick descents…
His are rarely fruitless efforts.
The smell of gunsmoke will hang for a long time in the early morning down in the canyon.
Ol Alex likes to soak in the water once in a while. He’ll turn his nose at a little seep that is only a trickle, even when I’d think he was thirsty.
But when he finds a good hole that is a “bellywasher”
he’ll get in and drink until I’d think he’d bust.
Usually, the canyons are lit up by the sun about this time of the day, but the smoke made things different, and cast a funny light to it all.
Found a few scrapes and rubs in the area .
We’d covered the length of the canyon and found a few birds. Alex said,
“hey, are there any places up here to get a corn dog?”
I said, “no, I don’t think they have any up here, but we might have a sandwich we could split.”
“Boy, that’d be great, lets go get it” said Alex.
We trudged back up the long canyon into the smoke, and made it back to the truck.
I opened the back and Alex jumped in.
Took off the Camera, the vest, the gear. Felt about 100 lbs lighter.
Alex and I sat there for a few minutes to rest up and then he cleared his throat and said, “what is in that cooler, do you think there might be a sandwich in there?”
I said, “I am not sure, there could be one left”. I said.
“Do you think that we could share it if there is one in there”? he said.
I got up and checked in the cooler, and sure enough, there was 1 sandwich left.
Alex was pretty glad about it.
We ate it and the smoke started to clear out of the canyon.
I loaded the gear back up, and fired up the truck. Got out and made sure I hadn’t left any thing behind.
“Well, that was a pretty good hunt don’t you think?” I asked.
“Alex”?
But the old boy had already drifted off to sleep.
It is nice out there during this time of the year, not a hot blast furnace, and not so cold that the dog bowl freezes up.
I asked ol’ Alex if he was up for it, and he said, “sure, load up the truck and lets go”.
So I did.
Drove until about midnight to our spot and realized that we were all alone.
I’d left pavement and lights about 10 miles back and had come to our spot that we’ve hunted from for the last 10 years or so.
We got out of the truck to make water and looked up.
“They have better stars out here, and lots more of em”, Alex mentioned.
We set the alarm clock for 0530 hrs and got some rest.
Coyotes voiced all night long. There must have been at least 10 of them split up into 3-4 different groups that sang and called periodically throughout the night and into dawn.
Alex growled as one woke him with its calling, “noisy little bastards, I’d like to get ahold of you” he grumbled… “Easy boy, get back to sleep” I said.
Soon the alarm was ringing and we were ready to roll. I had my vest, my big camera, my shells, a 2 litre bottle of water, an extra choke tube, 1 mitten, and my sidearm.
I got out of the truck and it felt like all the gear weighed more than it did in the past few years. Alex wolfed down his food and was out of the truck running and sniffing..
I hollered “slow down old man, you better save some of that fresh energy for the hike back”. “Would you come on, you always just drag along”. He countered.
Soon we crossed the 1st canyon, there was water in the tub, so alex loaded up.
Seems to be one hell of a berry crop this year.
Things looked good , the sun was starting to rise and the air was cool and crisp.
The coyotes had stopped calling and the flickers were starting to look for bugs.
Even the monks were up and out, and Alex can never turn down a monk.
It bolted under a downed tree,
Alex was hot on it, his tail swishing like an out of control windmill fan.
He clawed at the snag and dug under and around it.
“You can get him, don’t give up” I encouraged.
As the old boy stuck his head in the hole, out ran the monk from the other side and off to more cover.
“Good try Alex, lets go get some birds” I said.
We took a shortcut across a wide tabletop of a ridge so we could work the spots where the grouse come in the mornings to get sunshine and hoppers.
It sure seemed like a long ways to get to the edge of the flats.
Finally, we made it.
It is an awesome thing to see the sun light up a ridge.
We stopped to rest a moment.
“There is a river far below, do you remember hiking down to it to get some water back 5 or 6 years ago” Alex asked.
“I sure do buddy, but with my blown out ankles, we’d better take it slow and work these ridges”. I replied.
Alex said, “I smell smoke”. I noticed it too, and soon it became thicker and thicker.
We hit the ridges and busted a few blues, I walked behind Alex and into a grassy swale where there were always birds, and sure enough they erupted from cover and headed down the hill, I mounted the little 20ga and nearly fired,
but let them fly when I heard them call their alarm calls.
“What is wrong with you Man” Alex snorted as he looked back in confused amazement. “Fire” he yelped.
“Those are Huns buddy, didn’t you hear them call and chirp when they took off? We have to wait another month for them”.
We were happy to see some birds on the ridge at least.
Alex and I started the long trek back to the truck along the ridge and over the flats. It was starting to clear up some from the smoke, and soon I could birds calling.
From far off in the distance, and through the smoke. It sounded like Cranes.
Alex and I took a rest along the edges and I pointed them out to him. “Hey, you are right, Sandhill cranes” he said.
It was starting to get pretty warm and we needed water, I didn’t bring enough for both of us for such a long trek, so I gave mine to Alex.
Alex said, “Hey, you don’t have to do that, I will make it”.
I countered, “Just drink it up buddy, you are the one in the black fur coat”.
Alex decided to roll in the grass.
“this cheatgrass seed gets into my coat and then tickles my skin”
After a much longer hike than I remember from previous seasons, we made it back to our truck.
I was wiped, and Alex was too.
I dropped a huge bomber of Ibuprofen, and gave Alex his dog version of it.
Then I glopped on a whole bunch of Bag balm on his footpads.
He seems to feel better with it on his tired feet.
We decided to lay low and listen to the radio and I even fell to sleep in the shade under a giant ponderosa.
No one came by,
no one had been in the area all day.
We were enjoying ourselves.
Alex is a connoisseur of camp food.
Fried Chicken, Jo Joes, pretty much anything from caviar to corn dogs.
He knew there was good stuff to be had, and we had our late lunch/early dinner. (I gave the old boy the fried chicken skin, because he likes it so much).
We’d had a great day, ruffled a few feathers , and covered a vast amount of territory.
I was able to mess around with the gps, and find some places on the map that my father had mentioned to me, where he used to hunt deer back 40 years ago.
There were damages, My left ankle is still messed up and started to swell dispite being braced and in tighly laced boots.
Alex hunts hard, and works hard.
Despite our injuries, we looked forward to the next day.
I took this ghostly photo of the sunrise.
It was pretty smoky from the forest fire.
We had our breakfast, laced the braces tighter than before, and stumbled into the smoky morning.
All the brush was in various stages of turning
Ol’ Alex charged into them with a renewed enthusiasm from such an effort the previous day.
Steep canyons make for quick descents…
His are rarely fruitless efforts.
The smell of gunsmoke will hang for a long time in the early morning down in the canyon.
Ol Alex likes to soak in the water once in a while. He’ll turn his nose at a little seep that is only a trickle, even when I’d think he was thirsty.
But when he finds a good hole that is a “bellywasher”
he’ll get in and drink until I’d think he’d bust.
Usually, the canyons are lit up by the sun about this time of the day, but the smoke made things different, and cast a funny light to it all.
Found a few scrapes and rubs in the area .
We’d covered the length of the canyon and found a few birds. Alex said,
“hey, are there any places up here to get a corn dog?”
I said, “no, I don’t think they have any up here, but we might have a sandwich we could split.”
“Boy, that’d be great, lets go get it” said Alex.
We trudged back up the long canyon into the smoke, and made it back to the truck.
I opened the back and Alex jumped in.
Took off the Camera, the vest, the gear. Felt about 100 lbs lighter.
Alex and I sat there for a few minutes to rest up and then he cleared his throat and said, “what is in that cooler, do you think there might be a sandwich in there?”
I said, “I am not sure, there could be one left”. I said.
“Do you think that we could share it if there is one in there”? he said.
I got up and checked in the cooler, and sure enough, there was 1 sandwich left.
Alex was pretty glad about it.
We ate it and the smoke started to clear out of the canyon.
I loaded the gear back up, and fired up the truck. Got out and made sure I hadn’t left any thing behind.
“Well, that was a pretty good hunt don’t you think?” I asked.
“Alex”?
But the old boy had already drifted off to sleep.
