Category Archives: Hunting

One last Hunt in the North Malheur

Three years ago, my friend David Lane and I decided to do our own elk camp. The idea was to hunt for cow elk to put some meat in our freezers and limit our reliance on store-bought meat.

Evening of the first day. Just about the time the coyote chorus begins.

That first year we borrowed a friend’s wall tent and set up camp in the absolute worst spot a person (me) could possibly pick. The spot was in the bottom of a canyon that saw just a bit of sunlight each day and seemed to concentrate the cold each night. We didn’t see a single elk that year.

We stayed in a hotel in Burns the second year. My two boys joined us for that hunt. We’d get up early, drag our gear to David’s truck and head for the hills with some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in our packs and some beer in the coolers. The weather was far more conducive to camping that second year, with temperatures in 60 and clear, sunny views for days. My son Cole managed to surprise a cow elk, or vice versa, and she ran away unscathed. The rest of us saw no elk that year.

This year we stayed in an Air B&B. Mostly because I wanted to support the local economy in these rough times but also because our hunt was shortened by everyone’s work schedules. This year was an in-between year, with cool, mostly clear weather but a lot of snow left on the ground from a big fall storm a few weeks previous. We saw no elk this year.

Continue reading One last Hunt in the North Malheur

A Hard Walk

These slopes are impossibly steep, impressively rugged and home to the mythical chukar

I once ran a marathon in almost the same time it took me to walk up a hill in search of small gamebirds known as chukars.

Chukars are mythical little creatures, undoubtedly the inspiration for wingsuit flying and possibly the Phoenix.

Originally brought to Oregon from India in the 1950s, they live on hillsides with slopes that seem to defy mathematics, they can run up hill faster than any hunter can go, and they dart away suddenly, as if carried away by the very hands of the gods.

I’ve perspired before. It’s a skill I’m rather gifted at, in fact. I rained down on those parched eastern Oregon slopes, and all the water from the turbulent Deschutes River a thousand feet below me couldn’t quench my thirst.

My colleague David has been telling me about chukar hunting since I started working at ODFW more than a year ago. Continue reading A Hard Walk