Sunday, November 7, 2010

Tweet Tweet Bang

As a kid in Louisiana (state motto = "the sportsman's paradise"), I grew up duck hunting with friends and family, but I never caught the bug like a lot of my buddies did. I pretty much stopped hunting by the time I was 16 or so and didn't pick up a shotgun again until a few years ago when I moved back South to Texas. A couple of years ago, I went on a dove hunt in West Texas and had a blast, but it wasn't until this past week in Idaho that I caught the bug (and the birds) in a real bad (meaning good) way.

My dad had booked a steelhead trout fishing trip to the Flying B Ranch in Kamiah, Idaho, and it was our plan to fish a couple days on the Clearwater River - home to massive steelheads (and onetime home of Chief Joseph and the Nez Perce nation). After a day freezing our asses off on the river and only catching a couple of steelheads (it sometimes takes days to catch one so we didn't do so bad), I thought it'd be nice to explore the mountains with guns in hand and see what we could track down. With bird dogs criss-crossing the hills in a feat of cardiac endurance that would quickly put a man in his grave, we hiked for miles on end firing away at pheasant, grouse, chuckers, and huns. I've never had anywhere close to that much fun hunting. I'm hooked.

















4 comments:

Caroline said...

this looks like a ton of fun. maybe you should include your sister next time??

DON WEIR said...

maybe so sis..

korn said...

Once beautiful birds that now just look like trash, amidst your plastic water bottles...

DON WEIR said...

Korn,

I will eat them all for Thanksgiving and enjoy every bite.

- dw

 
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