We had a few strikes against us heading into opening bird hunting over the weekend. First, we are in rough shape. My husband’s back is bad, mine isn’t great, and I’ve been going to physical therapy for my shoulder for months. Second, his “lighter” gun was hundreds of miles away at a friend’s place, where he had planned to sight it in before the season. Third, our ATVs are in worse shape than we are, which meant we’d be walking wherever we decided to hunt.
Even so, when the light came on early Saturday morning and I heard my husband messing with hunting gear, I got out of bed like a kid on Christmas. He asked me what time it was. I looked at the clock and told him.
Then he asked, “And what does that mean?”
It means sun’s out, guns out! And maybe it was adrenaline or maybe it was stubbornness, but our aching joints relented and we prepared to hoof it into the woods with great enthusiasm.
Since we were on foot, we were able to bring our dog, Loki.
Loki is a border collie, not a typical hunting dog. He is scared of guns, so whenever he comes with us he walks behind me for protection. He walks so close he steps on the backs of my heels, something I wish I would’ve remembered on day two when I decided slip-on walking shoes would be a great idea for a hunting hike.
We never had any luck when we’ve taken Loki with us previously, but he was so ready to go that we didn’t have the heart to tell him otherwise.
We didn’t see many birds, but my husband somehow spotted one in the brush. He was mid-sentence with me and in a split second he released the safety, pointed, found the target, aimed and fired, all before I could cover my ears.
The bird fluttered into the woods and my husband went in after it. I looked at Loki and said, “Go help your dad find that bird.”
He hesitated at first but went in after him. My husband knew where the bird had landed, but he let Loki help him locate it in the brush. When he did, we made a very big deal about it.
We did all day and Loki was proud of himself from that moment on. On the way home he barked at people on the side of the road to tell them he was, in fact, a bird dog. He slept like a rock that night with visions of grouse dancing in his head. When we asked him the next day if he wanted to go, he was gung ho.
We were a little sore after our long walks but it was the good kind of sore. The kind that reminds you that you got outside and did something worth remembering.
The woods were busy with people trying to squeeze in their last fun of the season, and that made safety even more important. Hunters and non-hunters, please be careful out there and mind each other. We ran into some very rude ATV riders ripping up the road at speeds that don’t seem safe. I’m sure that had something to do with the birds hunkering down. Please, ATV riders, respect the trails. Slow down when you see people walking. And watch out for Loki and me, because he’ll be trying to tell you about his bird while I’m trying to keep him out of your way.
Not everyone out there on an ATV was rude. We were able to chat with a gentleman who told us he saw only a couple birds and one porcupine while he was out on his hunt. He told us funny stories about previous seasons out in the same woods, and we were all able to share some laughs and well wishes before we parted ways.
Though day two brought not a sight nor sound of birds, I did find some puff ball mushrooms to take home. They will make a good side for our lone grouse. When we got off the trail and into our vehicle, we were barely down the road when we ran into what at first I thought was a horse in the road, right in front of us.
The moose before us was young yet massive, and he was kind enough to pose for a picture. Unfortunately for us, my husband forgot his phone, and mine died when I was taking pictures of Loki an hour earlier on the trail.
When I lamented that my phone was dead my husband told me it was okay.
“Just savor it,” he said, and we did. For almost a whole minute. Then Mr. Moose made his way off the trail and into the brush.
In the end, all those strikes against us for bird hunting opener didn’t matter. We got one bird, one proud dog and more than one good story out of opening weekend, and that felt like enough for a couple of sore hunters and one very tired border collie.
