Chukar
“So, down this hill is a bench. Along that bench, there is usually a covey of Chukar. Once we get down there, we can walk along the bench and let the dogs find the birds. Easy, peasy!”
The day was sunny and cool. A perfect day for bird hunting in Wyoming. My friend, a resident of the Cowboy State and bird hunter, was driving me around in his 6X6 and pointing out places he found birds in the past. In the past few days, we found numerous Hungarian Partridge coveys and even a large grumbling of Sage Grouse. It was a bird hunter’s dream that year. Chukar were one gamebird that I had very little contact with- the lone exception being a covey in Idaho one year. I was eager to get another shot at them.
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| Randy heading for the bench. |
Chukar are a non-native partridge introduced to this country back in 1893. Originally, the birds were imported from Pakistan. The initial introduction had poor success, and in 1931 through 1970 they were re-introduced throughout the West. Interestingly, I read that one way they were distributed was by train. This time the program was a resounding success and California, Idaho, Nevada, Washington, Arizona, Colorado, Montana, Oregon, Utah, Wyoming, and the 6 major Hawaiian islands have populations. In Wyoming in particular, Chukar from India and Turkey were grown at the state game farm and released though 1977. The population is now stable enough for successful hunting seasons. The main contributor to a population decline year-over-year is the weather. One hard winter can knock back the overall population severely.
That day, my friend and I set off down the slope to the mythical “bench”. Walking was easy as we dodged the Sage brush and kept an eye out for the dogs. JD, my 2-year-old, was a bold and eager female Brittany. My friend had his 2-year-old female Setter on the ground. They worked well together, meaning they were all business and didn’t follow each other around.
The hill steepened as we descended and little fingers, or draws, took form on either side of us. Both dogs became really interested in a flattish area (the bench) about 40 yards in front. Suddenly, 15 Chukar blew out in all directions, but mainly downhill across a draw and up a steep hillside. I took my time and dropped one as it crossed right to left. It hit the ground hard across a small draw. I marked the downed bird, and took a bead on another bird that got up behind me. I was twisted around and out of position as I pulled the trigger, and the bird flew on- for two more seconds until my friend’s 16 ga. connected and he dropped. I called my dog in for the retrieve as a few more birds got up around us. I watched as my friend shot a bird that was going directly away from him. The bird folded and dropped, and dropped, and finally hit the opposing hillside with a deep ditch between. I couldn’t see it on the ground, but he marked it and set out to retrieve it. At this point, my friend had one in the bag and one on the ground across the deep ditch on the opposing hillside. I had one on the ground, and I called JD in for the retrieve. I walked to where I saw it hit the ground, saw feathers, and called JD in to the spot. “Dead bird, girl!” I said. She started searching the area. We couldn’t find that bird. We spent a fair amount of time there. Finally, we moved on, as I mentally marked the spot to come back later. Just then, another bird got up out of the Sage and flew directly away from me. My 28 ga. caught him at 20 yards, and he dropped like a stone on the hillside we were on. JD saw the fall and passed me to get the retrieve. Once again, I got to the spot, saw feathers but no bird. In addition, I had no dog either. Darn it! I whistled for JD and called her to come in and find that dead bird. I really did not want to lose this one. As I waited, I looked across the deep draw for my friend as he went to retrieve his second bird. I laughed because he was on his butt, sliding slowly down the steep hillside into the bottom. I knew there was a story in the making there.
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| Looking back up from the bench. |
My attention turned to my own downed bird and non-existent bird dog. I was getting a little miffed. Bird dogs should make the retrieve. I looked under every bush. I heard movement from my right and downhill toward the draw. A second later, JD walked up out of the draw with a Chukar in her mouth. She handed it to me. Hey, boss, here’s your bird. Chagrined at my own impatience, I reached down to love on her and gave her some water. She did exactly what she was trained to do. Good girl.
I couldn’t see my buddy down in the deep draw, but I kept him in mind as I moved across the bench with JD out front. She locked up across a smaller ditch and I moved with intention to get to her. Before I could reach her, a small covey flushed about 40 yards in front of her. They walked out from under her nose before they flushed.
Meanwhile, my friend showed up with his second bird in the bag. We backtracked to re-visit the site of my first downed bird, the one I couldn’t find. We still had no luck. It was time to head back up the substantial hill to the mule. It would have been so easy to keep following those red-legged devils. But every step downhill meant another step uphill to get home. I turned and started the slog back to the top.
After watering ourselves and the dogs, and re-living the shooting and retrieving and general buffoonery, we commenced the serious climb back up. Two steps into the ordeal, a Chukar flushed at my feet and flew to the right. The 28 ga. came up and barked twice. The Chukar laughed as he made his escape down the mountain and up the other side. I may have muttered an adult phrase as both hunters and both bird dogs watched the bird fly away unmolested.
Heavy breathing and frequent breaks marked the climb out. After climbing most of the way, JD swung past me and locked up across a small ditch in the grass. Immediately, I thought, “My wounded bird.”, and I started to her. A covey of Hungarian Partridge blew up in front of me as I lifted the double-gun to my shoulder. This time, I dropped two birds and JD retrieved both to hand. We watered together and continued the uphill ordeal back to the road.
Finally, we reached the two-track and our ride. We relived the event, laughing at the slide down the mountain for the retrieve in the ditch, the total whiff of the bird that got up at my feet, the excellent retrieve by JD, and the bonus covey of Huns halfway back up the mountain. That seat in the UTV never felt so good.
Chukar hunting is a young man’s game. I think those dedicated to chasing the bird must be as tough as they are. I have great respect for them. They say you hunt Chukar the first time for fun- the second time for revenge. I believe that.
