08-06-2006, 09:01 PM
For everything there is a season
Over the 40-plus years I’ve been toting a rifle or shotgun into the boondocks, minus a couple when I carried a gun for someone else, there are few things I’ve enjoyed more than deer season. Truth be told, however, I’d probably sell my deer rifle if I were forced to make a choice between grouse and deer hunting but, fortunately, I don’t have to make that choice.
Like many other people who have inked their name across the face of as many hunting licenses as I have, my objectives have changed since back in the days when I was a lanky, long legged teenager. Now, deer season is more about spending time with family and friends and only secondarily about making meat although that changes in a hurry if Good Wife isn’t being as proficient as usual or, as she did this last year, she gives one of her deer to someone who needs it more than we do.
Just how drastically my objectives have changed was brought home to me when opening day came and went without my 30.06 leaving its pegs on our bedroom wall. Instead, I spent a majority of the day catching up on writing assignments and, when I did finally get out of the house, visiting stands, stoking fires and helping others get their deer out of the woods.
Was a day, though, when I was borderline crazy to be out there and from the time I hit 16 and was free to come and go on my own, I did an awful lot of coming and going. In those days, I don’t remember having a whole lot of skill. I did, however, have an advanced case of cardio-vascular fitness and any deer tracks I found in fresh snow were followed to their owner.
I know lots of people my age or older who have killed far more deer than I have and who still feel out of kilter if the season gets too far along without downing some brown. However, as the years of “deer management” drag on and more and more hunters become disgusted with meager pickings, many of these older brown downers are dropping out because their primary reason for being out there isn’t out there so much anymore.
Despite what others might consider an apathetic attitude about deer hunting, I still get excited when the season approaches and I make a fresh totem every year to ask for guidance to the big racked buck I’ve always wanted.
Truth be told, however, there are enough holes in my “harvest” record to prove I don’t need to shoot a deer every year to enjoy my time afield even though I’m sure I’d quite hunting the danged things altogether if all I was allowed to carry was a camera.
Yet, while I’ll admit to having a less than gung-ho attitude about deer, there is no cessation in my desire to hunt grouse. And this desire has not diminishes with age even though the underpinning to pursue the Monarch of the uplands are showing tread wear.
And I wondered, since there is a similarity between deer and grouse – in that there seem to be fewer and fewer of them around and the Pennsylvania Game Commission appears to be doing everything in its power to keep it that way – if there was a group of older bird dog followers who were hanging up their shotguns? Indeed, as I found out, there are.
During a recent fishing expedition (where I did rather poorly if you must know) I had the opportunity to spend some time with the grouse biologist for the Pennsylvania Game Commission and we got to talking about his “cooperators,” the guys who take the time to fill out a “report card” every year revealing their actual hours hunted, the total number of birds flushed and the – honest – number they harvested. “Seemed like, with just a few exceptions,” the biologist told me, “everyone thought this was a bad year for grouse.”
Before we went our separate ways that evening, the biologist loaned me copies of the personal letter his “cooperators” sent along with their report cards and the results were as he stated. There was one other general theme running through these anecdotal season summations and that was the number of people who were dropping out of the upland business.
“I quit,” declared one. “Why,” another wanted to know, “with grouse populations at an all time low, did you extend the season?” And finally, the bitter response from a gentleman who wrote that he would “no longer support the PGC” because there weren’t any grouse left to hunt.
Perusing these hand-written notes, it also seemed apparent that many of the old regulars were also dropping out from either age or infirmity. These were the saddest letter of all, especially the ones that talked about their dogs not having anyone to hunt with anymore.
As I sit here writing, a grouse is drumming in the small, heavily cut over woodlot across the road from my home. Most of the breeding should be done for the year so this male is probably staking his claim to his dwindling little piece of habitat. I can only hope that at sometime in the season for such things, he found a hen and fulfilled his role in procreating even though I know the odds are against his offspring; regenerating woodlots - so essential for his survival – are becoming rare commodities in Pennsylvania .
There is a natural decline that comes with aging, both for our forests and for those of us who pursue the birds and animals that reside there. Mature forest like mature people have a place but there must be room for the young if we’re to continue this pageant that began eons ago.
For everything there is a season and, as long as there’s one grouse left to call me and my dogs to the hunt, I’ll be a participant. I may spend a majority of the season strolling the back country with an empty gun, caring too much for the few remaining grouse to take a risk at removing next year’s brood stock. There’s more to pursue than protein for the table and maybe, just maybe, if I keep looking, someday I’ll find it.
.....nu OGSÅ ejer af en 243win :-)
Favourite Quote: Vi løser ikke vore problemer ved at tænke på samme måde, som da vi skabte dem.....(Albert Einstein)
Over the 40-plus years I’ve been toting a rifle or shotgun into the boondocks, minus a couple when I carried a gun for someone else, there are few things I’ve enjoyed more than deer season. Truth be told, however, I’d probably sell my deer rifle if I were forced to make a choice between grouse and deer hunting but, fortunately, I don’t have to make that choice.
Like many other people who have inked their name across the face of as many hunting licenses as I have, my objectives have changed since back in the days when I was a lanky, long legged teenager. Now, deer season is more about spending time with family and friends and only secondarily about making meat although that changes in a hurry if Good Wife isn’t being as proficient as usual or, as she did this last year, she gives one of her deer to someone who needs it more than we do.
Just how drastically my objectives have changed was brought home to me when opening day came and went without my 30.06 leaving its pegs on our bedroom wall. Instead, I spent a majority of the day catching up on writing assignments and, when I did finally get out of the house, visiting stands, stoking fires and helping others get their deer out of the woods.
Was a day, though, when I was borderline crazy to be out there and from the time I hit 16 and was free to come and go on my own, I did an awful lot of coming and going. In those days, I don’t remember having a whole lot of skill. I did, however, have an advanced case of cardio-vascular fitness and any deer tracks I found in fresh snow were followed to their owner.
I know lots of people my age or older who have killed far more deer than I have and who still feel out of kilter if the season gets too far along without downing some brown. However, as the years of “deer management” drag on and more and more hunters become disgusted with meager pickings, many of these older brown downers are dropping out because their primary reason for being out there isn’t out there so much anymore.
Despite what others might consider an apathetic attitude about deer hunting, I still get excited when the season approaches and I make a fresh totem every year to ask for guidance to the big racked buck I’ve always wanted.
Truth be told, however, there are enough holes in my “harvest” record to prove I don’t need to shoot a deer every year to enjoy my time afield even though I’m sure I’d quite hunting the danged things altogether if all I was allowed to carry was a camera.
Yet, while I’ll admit to having a less than gung-ho attitude about deer, there is no cessation in my desire to hunt grouse. And this desire has not diminishes with age even though the underpinning to pursue the Monarch of the uplands are showing tread wear.
And I wondered, since there is a similarity between deer and grouse – in that there seem to be fewer and fewer of them around and the Pennsylvania Game Commission appears to be doing everything in its power to keep it that way – if there was a group of older bird dog followers who were hanging up their shotguns? Indeed, as I found out, there are.
During a recent fishing expedition (where I did rather poorly if you must know) I had the opportunity to spend some time with the grouse biologist for the Pennsylvania Game Commission and we got to talking about his “cooperators,” the guys who take the time to fill out a “report card” every year revealing their actual hours hunted, the total number of birds flushed and the – honest – number they harvested. “Seemed like, with just a few exceptions,” the biologist told me, “everyone thought this was a bad year for grouse.”
Before we went our separate ways that evening, the biologist loaned me copies of the personal letter his “cooperators” sent along with their report cards and the results were as he stated. There was one other general theme running through these anecdotal season summations and that was the number of people who were dropping out of the upland business.
“I quit,” declared one. “Why,” another wanted to know, “with grouse populations at an all time low, did you extend the season?” And finally, the bitter response from a gentleman who wrote that he would “no longer support the PGC” because there weren’t any grouse left to hunt.
Perusing these hand-written notes, it also seemed apparent that many of the old regulars were also dropping out from either age or infirmity. These were the saddest letter of all, especially the ones that talked about their dogs not having anyone to hunt with anymore.
As I sit here writing, a grouse is drumming in the small, heavily cut over woodlot across the road from my home. Most of the breeding should be done for the year so this male is probably staking his claim to his dwindling little piece of habitat. I can only hope that at sometime in the season for such things, he found a hen and fulfilled his role in procreating even though I know the odds are against his offspring; regenerating woodlots - so essential for his survival – are becoming rare commodities in Pennsylvania .
There is a natural decline that comes with aging, both for our forests and for those of us who pursue the birds and animals that reside there. Mature forest like mature people have a place but there must be room for the young if we’re to continue this pageant that began eons ago.
For everything there is a season and, as long as there’s one grouse left to call me and my dogs to the hunt, I’ll be a participant. I may spend a majority of the season strolling the back country with an empty gun, caring too much for the few remaining grouse to take a risk at removing next year’s brood stock. There’s more to pursue than protein for the table and maybe, just maybe, if I keep looking, someday I’ll find it.
.....nu OGSÅ ejer af en 243win :-)
Favourite Quote: Vi løser ikke vore problemer ved at tænke på samme måde, som da vi skabte dem.....(Albert Einstein)
.....ualmindelig velinformeret i forhold til min alder ... :-)
Favourite Quote: En humlebi ved ikke, at den ikke kan flyve......Gå ud på terrassen og vift med armene...hvis du letter må du være uvidende ;-)
Favourite Quote: En humlebi ved ikke, at den ikke kan flyve......Gå ud på terrassen og vift med armene...hvis du letter må du være uvidende ;-)