Hot Weather

It has been really hot, so hot that when I am outside there seems to be bacon sizzling somewhere. At least my mind hears it, if only my nose could find the aroma.

Early morning walks, out back behind the house, are still possible, but by eight o’clock the woodland strolls are out of the question. They are not fun for me and the dogs suffer in the heat. Back at the house the dogs dig for cool soil to lay on, and I can’t blame them, but we try very hard to discourage it. Parts of the yard are starting to look like the No Man’s Land of World War I, all pot holes and bones. Taking the dogs down to one of the ponds is tempting and sometimes we get there, but other times the dogs and I just hunker down.

If I can avoid the persistent chores on the “to-do list” I’ll read, which is easily my favorite pastime in hot weather. Find me shade and a good book and I’m quite content while I wait for fall.

I just re-read Gene Hill’s book Shotgunner’s Notebook and enjoyed it immensely. I’m not sure if I learned anything new, but it brought a lot of things back that maybe had been filed in the foggy recesses of my brain. Some of the reviews of that book haven’t been the kindest because it was different than his other books, but you can still hear Gene’s voice and read his humor, plus learn something along the way.

I’ll have to rout around my bookshelves now to find something else to read. Or, while it’s really hot, it might be a good time to take my guns out, haul them down to my workbench in the cool basement, and give them a good cleaning, at least until the sun goes down.

Hot Weather and Dogs

    We are lucky to spend our time in Northern New England in an area where drinking water for the dogs is rarely a concern. Streams are almost everywhere and finding dry footing is a much more common problem. Overheated dogs can die a miserable death, and the weather really doesn’t have to be that hot for it to happen. Staying out of the hottest parts of the day and ample drinking water are their best defense.

    Yesterday the temperatures were only in the upper seventies in the shade, but the sun was very hot. During the morning we hiked up a small mountain north of our place, and the unusually dry weather had dried up all the wet places. In a normal summer, the trail looked like it would be impossible to do without waterproof boots, but instead we tread on hard damp mud.

    The dogs were a concern, particularly after they pointed a partridge and went into hunting overdrive. Tongues were hanging. We calmed them down, but you know how that goes. In one wet spot a moose had walked through and fortunately the footprints had all filled with water. If it hadn’t have been for that spot, which we passed both going and coming, there wouldn’t have been any water for the dogs, except near where our truck was parked.

    The next time we hike where we are not certain of water, we’ll carry them some. 

July Rabbits

Pointing rabbits early last spring

     My dogs are German wirehaired pointers, and we also have a Vizsla in the house, and in Europe they are all breed to hunt furred as well as feathered game. In North America, the hunting of furred game is usually discouraged, and that is what I have done.

     But come July, when hunting is a distant memory in the dog’s mind, and the year’s new crop has bunnies everywhere around our home, I let them have some fun with the rabbits.

     On our morning and afternoon walks they always find one to point, sometimes a whole bunch to point. I walk in and then shout “okay”, which causes the dogs to dash after the rabbit. The dogs have learned to hunt as a team, with one usually trying to come around to cut off any escape route. They seem to have great fun and it causes me to laugh. Only a couple of times have they actually caught the rabbits.

     If they start to point when I’m in a hurry to be going, I shout “leave it”, and they do, but appear to do so with great reluctance. In bird season they would have to be dragged by a bulldozer to get them off a bird they are pointing. They know when it’s serious business.

     Dogs sure are fun. 

Hot Weather

Grouse hunting in hot weather is awful.  The clothing that is required to protect a hunter in typical grouse cover has to be hot to work.  So it’s either roast, or let the forest make mincemeat out of your arms and legs. 

Several years ago I started using a strap vest, back when they were hard to find in the catalogs.  Now there are a lot more to choose from and some are pretty fancy.  A strap vest is much cooler than a traditional bird hunting vest and certainly cooler than any jacket ever devised.  A cotton shirt heavy enough to protect your arms is all that is needed under the vest on warm days.

Brush pants are available in light weights.  Find a florescent orange hat with mesh panels and that’s about the best you can do.  You will probably want to carry water to stay hydrated, and don’t forget the dog’s water too.

And then where do you find the birds?  Try looking around stream bottoms, particularly if they are lined with softwood trees and a food source isn’t too far away.  Maybe the moving water makes it cooler, along with the shade, and probably the birds like a drink on a hot day just like we do. 

It has worked for me.

Aging

My oldest German wirehair, Chara, was ten this past summer.  When I stroke her whiskers back I notice cloudiness in her eyes that wasn’t there before.  Her spirit is still strong, maybe stronger than mine, but she is quite content to curl up on a rug and wait for something to happen.  Yet on walks she still hunts for mice and points song birds for her own entertainment, and physically she is muscular and strong.    She still runs for the back door, excited as a young pup, at the sound of the bell on her hunting collar. 

           Chara’s colors are white and liver, so the new white hairs aren’t as noticeable as if she were darker, but I do see white flecks where solid liver used to be.  Aging catches us all.

            Inside her head are ten seasons of experience, starting with her first season when she pointed quail at five months of age.  I don’t remember if she retrieved them, but I know I killed quail over her points that first fall.  The following season we hunted woodcock and ruffed grouse, and I can remember every detail of her first wild bird, a woodcock shot in Randolph, New Hampshire, at the end of a very long day afield.

            I remember her first duck hunt and how she retrieved a mallard as if she’d done it a hundred times before.  And the first pheasant she pointed, in a field of low cut grass, where I was so convinced that she was false pointing that I never even raised my gun when the big squawking cock finally flew.

            Last season was her best ever, pointing grouse after grouse, almost never bumping a bird.  Certain days stick in my mind and I hope they always will.  Pointing side by side with our younger dog, she never looked better.  With tremendous luck I killed the first partridge of the season, on opening day, while the two dogs pointed shoulder to shoulder.  The retrieve was a bit contentious and they each somehow ended up with a wing, but remembering it makes me smile. 

            So I have to wonder how much longer Chara will hunt.  This season looks like a sure thing, which is good because the bird numbers are up.  Our two year old GWP, Colby, learns much hunting with Chara and hopefully will continue to absorb the older dog’s wisdom.  At times Chara appears impatient with the younger dog, but more often seems oblivious to the youngster’s presence.  Colby honors easily, almost never interrupting one of Chara’s points, obviously respecting the older dog’s rank.  Twice last season Colby pointed partridge on her own, along with dozens of woodcock, none of which I’m not sure would have happened without Chara’s example.

            Now Chara dreams on the rug by my feet.  I see her feet twitch and hear muffled barks or chirps, and sometimes even a low growl.  I wonder if she recalls the same events I do, and, if so, what her favorite memories are. 

            Chara will remain top dog until the day she is done, and I plan to make certain she knows it.  We have a long history together.   

           

 

Dog days of summer

Ever wonder about the phrase "dog days"?  It is mentioned by the ancient Greeks.  The Romans believed that Sirius, which they called the Dog Star because it was the brightest star in the constellation Canis Major, caused the hot sticky weather.  During the hottest months of the year the star used to rise about the same time as the sun.  That is no longer true because of the precession of equinoxes, but that's another subject.  The Roman's supposedly sacrificed a brown dog to appease Sirius, my guess a chocolate lab.

During the dog days here our two GWPs and the Vizsla sleep much of the time, so still that the sound of their breathing is the only way I know they’re still alive.  Early mornings and late in the day they get their walks, usually somewhere that there is water that they can swim in.  Young turkeys are strutting about in the woods behind the house this time of the year and the dogs love to chase them up into the trees.  Lately there have two or three peacocks that have joined the turkey flocks, but they don’t hold much better for a point than the turkeys do.  I have to wonder if the turkeys and peacocks ever interbreed and what they would look like.  And how they’d taste?