Outdoors
Rec
B
Saturday, September 18, 2021
The Observer & Baker City Herald
Dove
hunting
can be
heavenly
September
salvation
TOM
CLAYCOMB
BASE CAMP
S
Brad Trumbo/Contributed Photo
Finn works over an old creek side channel in search of ole ruff .
MORE INFORMATION
BRAD
TRUMBO
Regulations for ruff ed and blue grouse
Season: Sept. 1, 2021, through Jan. 31,
2022
Bag limits: Daily limit of 3 birds of each
species; possession limit 9 birds of
each species
UPLAND PURSUITS
Ending a disappointing
month in 2020 with a
pair of grouse
S
eptember 2020 was our
worst on record for upland
birds. Wildfi res canceled
road trips while poor habitat
ruined others. Meanwhile, not a
bird moved in our local covers.
Sept. 29 was the fi nal day for us
to put a bird on the books for the
month and I did a risky thing — I
trusted my instincts.
Loading up Finn, my oldest
and only capable pointing dog
on the bench at the time, we
went all-in and headed for the
only local creek bottom with a
gated road weaving through the
riparian. My spirits were high as
the amber glow of the morning
sun cracked over the eastern
horizon. The cover was fairly new
to us, but immaculate with young
red alder stands, fl anked by sparse
dark timber, mixed pockets of
grasses and an understory of haw-
thorn, rose, snowberry and young
fi r. An absolute thing of beauty.
The alders shimmered in a
soft morning breeze as Finn
and I departed the truck. As we
strolled up the road, I encour-
aged her to check an embankment
of mature serviceberry with a
crimson snowberry toe. She gave
it a meager sniff and strolled on
gleefully.
Splitting from the main road
onto an old, washed out two-
track, we were surrounded by
grousey thickets amid dark
timber. A small opening ahead
to my left presented a lush laby-
rinth of emerald ferns and grasses
meandering the length of an old
creek channel. Finn lazily disap-
peared into the opening about 20
yards out, followed by wingbeats
against the greenery. My side-
Brad Trumbo/Contributed Photo
Finn tolerates a photo-op as I captured the results of an epic day in the grouse cover.
by-side 20-gauge rose quickly to
shoulder and I sighted down the
old road cut, prepared for quick
shooing. The sound of the grouse
piling into the understory sug-
gested that they had not fl ushed
far.
Knowing Finn would check
up, I carefully jogged closer, and
in perfect time. As my Garmin
GPS receiver beeped “point,”
the birds fl ushed again. This
time, a young gray-phase male
angled low across the old road.
Quickly swinging, I jerked the
front trigger as the barrels cov-
ered the bird, tumbling it into the
pine boughs.
Finn seemed a bit confused by
the ruckus, having spent the better
part of a month in the covers
without hearing a single shot.
Appearing briefl y and casting an
inquisitive Hey, whatchya shootin’
at? glance, I ordered her to fi nd
the bird, which she immedi-
ately noticed as it gained its feet.
Moments later, the Garmin beeped
“point” again as Finn stood over
the young ruff at the base of a fi r.
I’ve spent far more time in the
grasslands than forest covers and
have bagged relatively few ruff s
in my upland career. I had never
had the pleasure of taking a gray
grouse before that moment. This
young bird was gloriously colored
— storm cloud gray with streaks
of cream and feathers edged in
chocolate and caramel with a coal-
black neck ruff . Unfortunately,
Finn plucked its tail clean of all
but two feathers as she secured the
bird, but the signifi cance of the
moment was not sullied on that
minor detail.
Pressing on, it wasn’t 100 yards
before Finn was into another
Brad Trumbo/Contributed Photo
The beautifully-striped, gray tail fan of the “king of the woods,” a ruff ed grouse.
bird. Having picked up the main
road again, a circular opening
in the timber led to a miniature
meadow about the size of a large
house. Candy-apple shaded haw-
thorn was immersed in an almost
chartreuse-colored grass with
mahogany rose and snowberry
scattered throughout. On the edge
of the opening was a steep drop
where the creek had scoured the
bank during high fl ow at some
point in history.
On the far side of the opening,
I walked with Finn as she ambled
to the point where the grass faded
into timber. The scour channel
pinched into the road, forcing it
up against the mountainside, and
a grouse sat at the convergence of
terrain, grass and timber.
Suspecting the birds had been
fl ighty all morning, Finn’s pos-
ture suggested she was on the
scent. The moment I anticipated
her point, a sizable ruff jumped
from the grass, angling left across
the road and directly behind the
double barrels. Squeezing the rear
trigger spurred the modifi ed choke
barrel into action, depositing the
ruff on the edge of the road.
Recovering the bird, I marveled
over its contradictory humble, yet
intense hues. Boasting the same
glorious color palette as our fi rst
young bird, the size and fl awless
plumage were a sight to behold.
I had dreamed of this bird since
fi rst jumping one while archery
hunting about eight years prior.
At that moment, a specimen more
fantastic than I had imagined lay
softly in my palm, taken over my
fi rst and oldest pointing dog, who
has been the pillar of my upland
hunting career.
I could have pushed for a third
bird to round out a limit, and if we
were ever to take a limit of ruff s,
it would have been that morning.
Instead, I turned back with Finn
at heel. We had disturbed the
cover enough for one day, and
the second bird was too beautiful
to see the inside of a vest. With
the little double broken over my
shoulder, our fi nal grouse in hand,
and Finn trotting at my side, we
savored the walk out to the tune
of songbirds and the babble of the
creek.
Success was nearly guaran-
teed as we entered a fi ne cover on
a perfect day with the mindset of
singular fashion. It was our day.
We had earned it over our lon-
gest streak of consecutive hunts
without so much as seeing a
game bird. Reading the cover,
trusting the dog, and anticipating
“the king of the woods” brought
September salvation.
Brad Trumbo is a fi sh and
wildlife biologist and outdoor
writer in Waitsburg, Washington,
where he also actively serves the
Walla Walla-based Blue Moun-
tain Pheasants Forever chapter.
For tips and tales of outdoor
pursuits and conservation, visit
www.bradtrumbo.com.
ome of our hunting trips
are intense. You get up
two hours before day-
light, slam down a fast break-
fast and hike up a mountain so
you can be in your secret spot
before the elk start moving.
You hike/hunt hard all day and
get back to camp well after
dark so tired you barely feel
like cooking dinner.
Two hours after falling
asleep you wake up freezing.
The temp is down around 8
degrees. You sleep fi tfully
until your alarm goes off .
You gingerly step out of your
sleeping bag and pull on your
frozen pair of blue jeans. The
legs are like trying to slip on
irrigation pipes. The snow
slightly melted when you took
them off and then froze hard
overnight.
By the third morning you
are so sore you can’t hardly
roll out of bed. Ahh, this elk
hunting is the life! No doubt,
elk hunting can be tough.
Much less when it’s snowing
so hard that the tent keeps col-
lapsing overnight and you have
to push it up to make the snow
slide off .
Compared to elk hunting,
dove hunting is heavenly. The
weather is nice and warm. You
don’t have to be hiking up to
the top of a ridge before the
sun has even woken up. Just
be at a water hole a little bit
after daylight, hunt the feeding
fi elds during the day and hit
the water holes again in the
evening.
You don’t want to camo
up too much, sure don’t wear
scent cover, and you can set on
a stool behind a tree, fenceline
or brush.
Details depend on where
you hunt, but here are some
general rules to make you
successful.
• Generally doves like to fl y
down fencelines/treelines.
• They like to hit water
holes early/late. They don’t
like to water at fast moving
streams. They like ponds,
sloughs etc.
• Hunt feed sources. Grain
fi elds (milo is the best) or
sunfl owers.
• They like to sit in dead
trees and on power lines.
• Eurasian doves like to
congregate around barns and
corrals. A couple of years ago
three of us shot nearly 100 in
two hours around an old barn/
corral.
• Nowadays we have decoys
and mojo decoys that help.
Sound people use calls.
Doves can be hard to hit.
They’re cruising along a lot
faster than they appear. The
best description I have ever
heard of their fl ight pattern
is how an old outdoor writer,
Cotton Ward, described them
20-something years ago. He
said when they come “dipsy
doodling in” that they are hard
to hit.
The gear you’ll need is
pretty simple. A lot of people
use a padded top fi ve-gallon
bucket. You can carry your
shells, water and doves home
in the bucket and sit on it while
hunting. Get one with a swivel
top. You’ll also want a shell
vest. When they’re coming in
hot and heavy, you’ll want fast
access to your shells. And defi -
nitely a cap to cover your face
and shield you from the sun.
Most people use a 20-gauge
or 12-gauge and a modifi ed
choke. On good days you’ll
have a lot of shooting so it’s
smart to wear ear protection.
See, Doves/Page B2