Early Season in Montana

I took Ila and Fizzy for a quick ten day hunting trip to Montana. Breaking the trip into thirds, we camped out of the truck to facilitate our mobility for the first part. For about five years now, there have been a handful of areas I have been wanting to see, and possibly hunt. Done and done! We then based out of a hotel for two nights before heading to Bozeman to stay with a dear friend and chase mountain grouse.

94 degrees at sunset in Sage Grouse country

​We managed to get skunked in the Sage Grouse department on the earliest leg of the trip, but that's okay. I was committed to only taking a Bomber in the event we got onto any, which meant there was a distinct possibility there would be no Sage Grouse in the bag to begin with. One day in, we awoke to a flat tire, and the spare had but thirty pounds of pressure in it - how great is that? Fortunately, I had my bike pump along, the one I use to pressurize my Water Port, and was able to get the tire up to fifty pounds; which is about twenty pounds of pressure better than what I had. But highway speeds would have to be reduced to prevent the tire from overheating and blowing out...

We arrested our Eastward journey and started North, and immediately started getting into Sharptail. Due to the heat, I'd simply drive to a spot that looked pretty good and pull out my binoculars and glass. If I saw chicken heads poking up, I'd put one or both girls down, and we'd hunt that covey. These semi-road hunts were all done at or over ninety degrees. It was what is was, and the girls got into plenty of birds. Once I was limited out, I'd put one dog down and pull out my blank pistol and trained on steadiness with new birds, gunfire, in new spaces. These were good days indeed, but ever so hot!

Fizzapotamus of the Prairie

The spare was holding air, and despite multiple stops, no one's compressor could add pressure over fifty pounds, in fact, one gas station's air pump was so weak, we lost pressure! The dogs and I were plowing through our water supply at an alarming rate too. Just a few days in, and we had blown through five gallons. Still, we crisscrossed a vast area in search of birds. One area held a vast number of Sharptail, but they were mixed with Pheasant, which were not in season. These mixed coveys were so problematic and nerve wracking that I made the decision to leave the area before mistakes were made.

I hadn't planned to check into a hotel, but to be honest a real shower felt amazing. Also, I'm not out to prove any points. I'm old enough and have done enough to be worried about any of that nonsense. We continued on with our quest for Sharptail, and decided to add Huns to the list of contacts. All in all we had a great time and took our share of birds, and the blank pistol got to see time in the field a few more times. Of particular note I was approached by a gentleman who had taken a passing shot on a Hun, and it went down in a wide slough full of water. His dogs would not try for the bird. By the time we were on scene the Hun had drifted into the thick pond scum. Ila and Fizzy made several casts and made contact with the bird, but the algae mat was too thick for them to see the bird, and since it had begun to sink, scenting it was compromised too. Afterwards we had a pleasant chat, and it was clear he was happy with our efforts despite a lack of success. After trading business cards, he shared a few tips with me.

waiting for legal light

Rarely if ever has anyone shared well defined covey locations with me, so I was skeptical, but optimistic. We proceeded to hunt the first area he recommended, and Fizzy made the most striking and dramatic point she has made to date. I was torn; to photograph her or try for the birds. I weighed this, back and forth. Then Ila came in from downwind and established her own point a body length behind Fizzy. Her point was also intense. I wished Jenna was there to take photos, I would have loved to hear that Nikon's shutter blazing away. I resolved that the best thing I could do would be to do my part and try to take a bird. As I moved into position, the covey rose, and I took a double. I looked over my left shoulder and there the girls stood. I released them to find and retrieve the downed birds - just magnificent! Afterwards we hunted the other tip with good success as well - I had a lot of birds to clean now, a nice mixed bag at that. You read that right, I don't write about or photograph all my birds... I had a notion to thank the gentleman via text for his intel and ended up having dinner with him and his wife. What a grand time. It wasn't long before we made plans to meet again in Montana in October, and again in Arizona in December.

Hunting Sharptail at the break of dawn

Mountain grouse, as they are called in Montana, are not for those weak in the knee or faint of heart. Sure, you don't need to be in Boston Marathon shape, but that would help a lot. I stayed with my longtime friend and we hunted with our collective friend who is seventy-six years of age! I hope to be at it like him when I get there! The easiest Dusky Grouse habitat in their area isn't really easy. You just take it easy, one step at a time, and trust the dog(s) to do their work. Since we don't sluice birds off the ground or out of trees, the shooting is a real challenge and means hard found birds can be lost as they make their escape through thick cover. A change in temperatures for the better, read coolerr, got the broods moving and we made good contact each day. Ila had injured a toe on the last day of her prairie hunting, and so it was eighteen-month-old Fizzy who hunted every day from the start to the end of the trip. Ila did get to hunt in the mountains for the morning hunt before we left town.