Blog – Page 2 – The Crooked Arrow Blog

Crop science

Food, cover, water: the three things hunters look for when figuring out where to find upland birds (and mammals for that matter) on the landscape. Water is probably the easiest to judge with help of maps – do people still use maps? – or satellite imagery. Cover is a little trickier and bird-dependent. Sharptails often congregate in and under mature bush, like buck brush. Sage grouse, not surprisingly, like mature sage bush to hide under. They say pheasant like cattails, though whenever there is also other, less dense cover around, I’ve often found them there. Partridges, due their size, are happy with lower cover. Common theme here is that during the day birds generally don’t sit out in the open, waiting to get picked off by a hawk, so I tend to concentrate on whatever sticks out from the horizontal, whatever breaks up the monotony of the landscape.

Whenever that cover is near a food source, things can get interesting. What birds eat varies throughout the year, so if you are keen to develop your knowledge on where you might find birds, in addition to just finding and reading this information conveniently on the internet, you could investigate right at the source: the bird’s crop (provided you can shoot the first one). The crop is essentially an enlarged part of the esophagus, where food is stored and digestion is started. It generally sits right above the sternum, and, when full, can easily be felt. You can open it up by inserting a knife just at the top of the sternum, in the V where the breasts meet, and making a slit up towards the throat. Inside is a treasure of information what the birds are eating right now, where you are hunting. This information can help determining where you want to hunt next, or helps you focus on the right kind of cover or habitat.

For example, when we hunted sage grouse in September, the assumption was that they would be feeding on grasshoppers. So, we tried to focus on fields with lots of the jittery insects around. And we didn’t find sage grouse. After we killed the first birds, we found fresh greens and white berries in their crops. Since it had been scorching hot and bone dry, fresh greens could only be found near water. Ideally this story would continue by us hunting water courses and finding more birds, but that wasn’t the case. We found them later in the day, in mature sage brush, with not a green leaf in sight. But we might have, based on what we learned. Mid-to-late September ruffed grouse showed kinnikinnick berries and leaves predominantly,
information that went into the knowledge database for later.

In October, the focus was on sharptails, and they fed on insects (grasshoppers), wild rose hips and unidentified yellowish berries during the warm early weeks, and mostly rose hips towards the end of the season. An island of tall buck brush in the center and rose bushes around it had a good chance of holding some birds.

The one blue grouse I shot had nothing but unidentified green leaves in his crop, not very helpful.

In November, Hungarian partridge didn’t disappoint by confirming that they like to scrounge the stubbles for wheat kernels. But later in the day, they hid in the adjacent coulees to get out of the wind and hide from prying eyes.

The pheasants we shot had empty crops. According to a few biologists I asked, released pheasants don’t really manage to switch to eating wild foods, and the wild pheasants we shot, we found in the afternoon, when the morning feed had already left the crop. The latter is a bold non-scientific assumption, but could be true.

Perhaps checking the crop doesn’t provide immediately helpful information, but over the years, patterns might arise. Maybe some day that will come in handy.

I still call them Blue Grouse

There is a ridge in the front range of the mountains an Southwest of here that doesn’t see a lot of foot traffic. Below it runs a trail leading to a popular waterfall. To the North and above it runs a hiking trail up a somewhat popular mountain. Somewhat, because the grade and duration of ascent weed out the uncommitted. The ridge doesn’t really go anywhere, it fizzles out at a big scree field.

Enough sheep and elk hunters passed through to have carved out a bit of trail. From it’s false peak, I’ve watched a ewe with lambs relax in the sun below me, and a herd of elk wait out the heat of the day in the shade at its bottom. I’ve shot a blue grouse there once, when I still hunted with a compound bow.

Behind it is a little oasis, where water comes out of the rocks, creates small waterfalls, and a lush green creek bed. It’s a nice place to sit and relax, perhaps even snooze a bit. It’s also a place that grizzlies like.

It can be a hostile place, the area is known for big winds. Once I crawled behind a two-feet high rock, with hands so cold, I feared I actually had done some damage. I have hiked around it, to end up across a ravine from it, hoping that opening-day hunters coming up the main trail would push a ram towards me. There were hunters, obliviously skylining themselves, but no rams.

But today the weather was calm, there were no opening day crowds, and no bears. However, the climb up there was steep as ever. Perhaps even a little steeper. Finn and I worked our way up an avalanche chute, with many of the right plants, but without birds.

Crossing the barren slope to gain the ridge took a few breaks. Once there, we had barely started to follow the faint trail up when Finn got birdy. He dashed into the stunted trees lining the North side of the ridge, working his way up, with me panting and heaving trying to keep up. Just as I was thinking about calling a time-out Finn made contact, but didn’t manage to lock down the bird, that flushed onto the trail. Before I could develop unsportsmanlike thoughts, Finn followed through and thoroughly spooked the bird out of range. We continued for a bit, but lusted for the water and a sit down. We weren’t going to reach ptarmigan altitudes today anyway.

On the way down, I kept us below the ridge, in the trees, trying to string together the breaks in the cover. Finn’s bell kept chiming, and never stopped for more than a few seconds. Entering yet another clearing, a blue grouse erupted from below a lone tree. Nothing budged when I pulled the trigger, twice. Safety! A flick and a desperate swing were followed by an impressive puff of feathers. Finn quickly found the bird, but had some trouble, or was disinclined to acquiesce to my request of retrieval. As I came closer he brought the bird anyway.

We got sucked into a steep ravine, the best way out appeared down. It hardly was, but we made it, despite an unfortunate amount of bushwhacking. We even dodged the rain.

It was a good afternoon.

Why they are no longer called Blue Grouse

Back so soon?

What was supposed to be a three-day bird hunting trip, turned into a single long day quickly when I tried to pat Finn on the head and he flinched and yelped.

Camp had been made along the banks of the reservoir. Not our regular spot sheltered by trees. In stead there was nothing but grass between us and the water, and the neighbours on either side, a hundred yards away, on equally barren spots. I was hoping for a windless night.

Kyle had hurried home from classes, and skipped some work, to come out with Brizz, his thirteen-year old German Shorthair. We wasted little time getting out to a short-grass coulee where we’d been a few times before, but was new to Finn. Sharptail season had opened five days earlier, huns had been open for over a month, but pheasants were still a week away. Of course, Finn bumped a rooster not ten minutes from the truck, and Brizz and Finn tag-teamed on semi-pointing a group of three more, where the wheat stubble gave way to native grass.

We loosely walked up the high ground between two draws, with Finn trying hard to cover the land beyond as well. After the long drive, and afternoon of being staked out in camp, he had just a little extra energy, and was hard to keep under control. He had pointed a covey of huns, presumably, because I didn’t actually see it, but judging from the absence of sound, that flushed when I followed a cattle trail into the twelve-foot tall buck brush. Kyle tried, but couldn’t connect.

We got another brief point out of Finn on a rooster that wouldn’t hold, when he returned from exploring “the land beyond” one more time. He figured that chasing these big chickens was just the best thing ever. I’m still getting used to having the e-collar remote dangling on the left side of my vest, and often tuck it in a bit, so he had more than enough fun by the time I found the right button. He’d done so well on our local hun coveys, but all those lessons appeared forgotten, or at least considered temporarily irrelevant.

I had shot one sharpie, and Kyle unfortunately had missed several, when we bumped one from a patch of ten-foot tall vegetation, that I managed to drop. Finn rushed in for the retrieve, but circled wide. Brizz slow-jogged over, and they arrived at the same time, briefly pointing the still-alive bird jointly. Brizz claimed seniority for the retrieve and Finn came to me for a little praise and consolation. That’s when he cried in pain.

It didn’t take long to see the blood in his eyeball. He wouldn’t even let us point at his face without whinging. We decided to call it a day, Kyle couldn’t hit anything anyway, Brizz was already past tired, and Finn’s eye needed some attention. I called the vet from camp, and decided to pull up stakes to get him checked out in the morning.

Back home, Finn cuddled up beside me as he sometimes does when I sit on the ground. As I was stroking him I noticed something hard under his skin, inside his left elbow. Clearly something was wedged in there, but we couldn’t find any obvious entry point. More things for the vet to look at.

Fast forward and $485 later, the 1 1/4” thorn had been removed, his eye checked, labeled “bruised cornea”, and the birds cleaned. Thanksgiving dinner coming up. I think I’ll do up the Montana sage grouse.

Huglu 20ga SxS – Review after two years of use

For years, the urge of owning a nice side by side shotgun in 20ga has floated around in my brain, briefly resurfacing from time to time, but never becoming overwhelming. Mostly because I didn’t hunt birds very often, and more importantly, because the price tag on most of these guns caused heartbeat irregularities and sudden surges in blood pressure every time I looked. Spending some time (days) in a hospital bed, waiting for a surgery spot to open, slightly delirious with hunger, I decided the time had come. And I knew which one I wanted: the CZ Bobwhite G2.

Contacting a local dealer, it quickly became clear that getting one ordered and imported from the US would come with very uncertain timelines. Months for sure, many months perhaps. But the dealer had an alternative. Apparently, the Turkish company Huglu makes the gun that CZ rebrands and sells as the Bobwhite model. And they had several Huglu shotguns in stock. Just not in the same finish, and not with the same barrel length, but cheaper and available immediately. So, a few days out of the hospital, we made the 5-hour road trip, one-way, to have a peek, and maybe bring one home.

First impressions

Honestly, I was not impressed by the looks of the gun, but my intention was to buy something that I would not be afraid to use. I wanted to drag this up mountains and ridges to look for blue grouse and ptarmigan, and put in the kayak when paddling for ducks, and drag through coulees and marshes, without having to worry about denting or scratching it. This one would probably fit that bill. The case colour hardening looked “thin”, and lacked the characteristics of a quality finish of that nature. It almost looked like a spray-on job, the colours vibrant, the pattern oddly regular. Hard to imagine this finish would last very long. The opening lever had a gold-coloured double-headed eagle, acceptable if stand alone, but rather boldly contrasting with the case colouring.

But the little gun fit! Eyes closed, shouldering, and finding the bead sitting right where it needs to be, was a pleasant surprise. Just shouldering the gun a couple of times had me sold, and forgiving it all the finish gaudiness. For a cost of just under a thousand Canadian dollars, it was not hard to justify this purchase. You wanted a gun over which you wouldn’t cry if you hurt it? Well, here it was.

After two years of use

The front trigger proved a bit heavy, and opening the gun requires a little downward tug on the barrels. The latter will likely improve with time, the former might require a polish, but in the field, it doesn’t seem to bother me. Hard to recall how many rounds went through this gun, or how many times I have taken it out into the field. Wild guesses would be 500-600 shells, and maybe thirty outings: hunting days, range visits and shooting during dog training and NAVHDA trial events.

The gun has not disappointed in terms of fit. If I do my job, don’t rush the shot, shoulder the gun cheek-first, keep my eyes on the birds, and don’t think, good things happen. I’ve made some amazing (in my world) shots, and had some events where I shot way above my pay grade. I attribute that mostly to the fact that my body and the guns dimensions just mesh. There are, however, a few things that need mentioning. It’s not all puppy dogs and rainbows.

The finish. I knew it. It started coming off within months of using it. Around the grip and trigger guard it is completely gone, similar on the bottom corners of the action; any place where your hands regularly touch it.

That was not the first issue. After shooting a few rounds of trap on the range, pins started coming loose. The pins that hold the cocking levers, and the one on the forend. As it happened at the end of the first season, I sent it back for a warranty repair. Months later the gun came back, with new pins installed, reportedly. The next range session, it happened again. Instead of sending it back once more, I used some epoxy to set them in place. So far so good. Time will tell.

Unfortunately, there is more. The forend has started to wobble. There is side-to-side movement, where there should be none. Easily remedied for now, by putting some electricians tape inside the barrel channels, but in time this may need gunsmith intervention. For just two seasons of fairly light use, that is disappointing.

Conclusion

Since I am the worrying kind, I worry about what issue might arise next. Clearly, the quality of this firearm leaves something to be desired. Or should I be fairer, and say: you got what you paid for. The next step up in price would easily put five thousand devaluated Canadian dollars on the credit card, and likely one or two thousand more. Such a price difference would have to show itself somewhere, in this case a finish that doesn’t deserve the name, poorly fitting pins, and (perhaps) improperly hardened or lower quality steel on the forend lock.

Maybe it is time to start counting my pennies, regularly putting some change into an old tin, and investigate what options are out there on the right side of affordable, without getting cheap. In the meantime, I’ll keep taking this gun up and down ridges, through swamps and coulees, and hope that magic keeps happening, every time the operator doesn’t get too excited and messes things up. Unfortunately, that still happens way too often.

Frans

Ruffed Grouse – The King?

“They like thick cover.” “Edge habitat.” “Undergrowth.” “Clover and berries”. “Young aspens”. “Cut blocks.” Advice on where ruffed grouse live is not hard to find. “Shoot them with a twenty-two on quad trails!”, and the best one: “They come wandering into my backyard when I’m outside barbecuing. I go inside, grab a gun, shoot them, and add them to the grill”. Hardly a bird worthy of the title “King”. Or is he?

Finn’s bell tingled somewhere behind me, as I was pushing through a dense forest of young pines. They had grown so thick that the lower branches had died, letting through enough light for an understory of leafy shrubs, and even a low-to-the-ground plant with red berries.Kinnikinnik, I think. Bears like them, as demonstrated by a few piles of scat that were full of them. Why do bears even eat berries? It appears most of them pass through their system untouched. I hoped grouse liked them too.

My musings on the inner workings of a bear were rudely interrupted by a rustle and the drumming of wings! A grey ruffed grouse exploded from under my feet, and was out of sight in a second. Finn drew up behind me, and solidly pointed the spot the grouse had just left. We had found grouse! The dog needed no more encouragement, and dashed off looking for more encounters. I dashed off looking for a place to breathe. Grouse might live here, but short of clubbing them to death, there was no way I was going to get my hands on one. The thickets were claustrophobic to a man of the mountains and prairies.

By following the flushing birds we managed to push some into terrain where a gun could be shouldered unimpeded, more or less, and we managed to shoot two. Finn found a lot more of them, and I even saw some that he found, but mostly I heard an excited bark, the wings through the vegetation, and then Finn’s bell as he was off again.

Hunting these these birds is not an easy task, if you don’t want to “shoot them from the quad with a twenty-two”, something that would be severely hampered by the fact that I don’t own a quad, nor do I like being on one much. We never found them in open cover where a guy (or girl) would have a decent chance to get off a shot, and where we did find them, we couldn’t move. Ruffed grouse, The King of Upland Birds? Definitely the King of Hide and Seek.

Shooting a limit, or the art of restraint

I stared writing this post a few months ago, but got sidetracked. Now A.J. DeRosa published a thoughtful article on Project Upland I will limit myself to a condensed version.

“Did you get your limit?”

What goes through your mind when you hear that question? I am appealing to the bird hunter here, or perhaps broader, the small game hunter. For big game, the limit often is one (I’m ignoring Eastern states in the US where whitetails are thicker than mosquitoes), but for birds limits are common. Daily limits, possession limits, how many birds can you shoot in a day, and how many can have in your truck and freezer combined.

“Did you shoot a limit?”

Tips and tricks to “get your limit” are prevalent on the web. Photos of hunters with a limit of birds on their tailgates are a dime a dozen on Instagram. Full disclosure, I have done the latter myself. A limit of
pheasants in Alberta is two birds, and you will not have to go back too far in my feed to find those two birds proudly displaced. And nothing wrong with showing some pride in accomplishing a good day of hunting: the dog worked great, your shooting was on par, you had a good time out.

The potential problem lies in the fact that a lot of the hunting takes place on publicly accessible lands, with no control over who hunts, how often it gets hunted, or how many birds are taken other than the daily and possession limits. And as DeRosa points out, in many cases those limits were set long ago, and may not have been scrutinized in a while. What really got me agitated about this “getting a limit”, was an Instagram post a year or so ago, where the poster and friends proudly showed their limits of chukar, that were obtained in the valley, the birds driven down by snow, huddled together waiting out the storm. “We didn’t even have to climb!”

I realize I have mixed up two arguments here: the notion that we have no real control over hunting pressure on a limited resource (the number of hunters chasing the same coveys), and the lack of restraint that some of us display regardless of circumstances. Chukars under normal circumstances live in terrain that is difficult enough to make them fly further than the average hunter wants to pursue them, but it is not very hard for a few guys with half decent dogs to decimate a covey of huns, shooting a few from the initial rise and following up singles, till they reach the imposed limits. That covey may not recover. Especially not, if the next day another couple of guys hunt the same area and come across the stragglers. How much nicer would it be to just shoot a few from the covey, and move on to find a new one. You see more terrain, you can stay out longer, enjoy more fresh air, and pressure the birds a whole lot less. You may get a limit of birds, or you may not. But who cares if you have enjoyed a great day out?

It is a fine line between hunting smartly, and taking unfair advantage of circumstances. When it has been hot and dry, we might hunt near water. If it has been bitterly cold, we will look for pockets of open water to find migrating waterfowl. If the snow fell deep in the high country, we kill the huddled birds in the valleys. Somewhere along that spectrum, we went from smart to unsporting, or even to detrimental to survival of local populations. State or provincial/territorial agencies cannot control our actions at that point, it is up to the individual hunter to do a little soul searching and find that point when enough is enough.

Frans

Sage Grouse – Montana, September 2022

The sun had turned to orange early, filtered by the smoke of a nearby wildfire, and the dust of the two-track trail. All around, vast expanses of sage brush stretched to where nine thousand feet high ridges framed the scenery. The oppressive heat of the day still lingered, as our minds slowly started to shift from birds to the cool waters of the alpine lake ahead, and perhaps trout for dinner. Suddenly something stirred in the shrubs ahead. One bird head bobbed in the sea of grey-green leaves, shortly followed by a second. Sage grouse!

It all started with a spur-of-the-moment email to a friend in Butte.

“What do you know about sage grouse hunting in Montana?”

The response came quickly and oozed confidence: “I know everything about sage grouse hunting in Montana, my family has been hunting the opener for decades. We are going again this year. Why don’t you join us?”

Two days before the opener Finn, my seventeen-month-old Small Munsterlander, and I drove down, met up with my friend and his son, and set up camp the next day in time for a reconnaissance drive. Finn and I had chosen to stay in a tent. I like my privacy, and he would likely be too much puppy to allow for a quiet night in the trailer, with other people and other dogs. But mostly, I like my privacy.

The nights at seven thousand feet were cold. Despite the daytime mid-thirties (Celsius) temperatures, nighttime temperatures straddled the freezing mark. Though that notion had crossed my mind, I had still brought a sleeping bag that could not be cinched up across the shoulders. Rookie mistake. Finn was comfortable, I think, in his kennel, with fluffy pillow, wearing a jacket. I was not.

We hunted the early mornings, to avoid overheating the dogs. Finn was running big, using the freedom the long views provided, casting nicely left and right, like he had been doing this for years. A few hours were all we had, before the dogs started to suffer. I fed Finn all his water and most of mine
but halfway through the mornings it was time to call it. The area had a surprising number of alpine lakes and shallow creeks, when everything around it was bone dry. Both dogs and hunters took advantage of the opportunity for a cool swim after the morning’s hunt. Late afternoons, with the sun losing just a hint of its sting, we would saddle up again, slowly driving and walking two-track rocky roads and field edges, trying to spot moving birds.

The choice of fields to hunt looked random to me, as for a mile in all directions the terrain was featureless, but it was based on years of experience in this area. I was beginning to pick up small clues about what sage grouse might like. Fresh greens, of which we saw little, grasshoppers, which were ubiquitous, just not in every field. Water perhaps? Some animals get their moisture from plants, but things were pretty arid here. I just imagined birds hitting up water early morning, working their way up to higher areas to catch a breeze, perhaps to return to water late afternoon, before retiring for the night in cover. But that was just speculation.

The first morning we flushed a single sage grouse, and two huns, which all escaped unscathed. Finn had not pointed any of the birds, but he had seen them fly, and had decided to abandon whatever steadiness we had so tenuously achieved in the pre-season prep. I could not fault him, because I had forgotten all my intentions to focus on the dog with the first few birds, and help him remember. The dog did not know better, I should have.

That evening we found the bobbing heads near a small water course and just off the two-track. I suggested falling back and around to get downwind of the birds and letting Finn work the breeze, but it was decided to follow the moving birds, taking the leashed dogs with us. As soon as we had stepped
across the water, Finn’s nose glued itself to the ground, the tail started working, and he became a handful. To my great surprise we managed to get within range before the first grouse flushed. The big bird worked hard to gain altitude, and the shot was not hard. Training a pup and hunting an elusive bird do not go well together. Both dogs rushed in for the retrieve but got distracted by two more falling birds, shot by my buddy. Each grabbed one of the fluttering birds and retrieved nicely, and my bird was found not too much later. A nice male bird, perhaps not the biggest, but not a young of the year either. We cut off wings for the registry, and took breasts and legs.

The second morning was mostly a repeat of the first. We hunted a large swath of land, in semi-circular fashion, above a small water source. My friend connected first, missing birds in a covey, but then connecting with the third shot on a single. Finn was bullied out of the retrieve by the other dog, but he got another chance. First a pair of grouse were bumped out of range by my friend’s dog, but not much later I shot a single with the second barrel, as it was rocketing down and around the slope. Finn nicely
delivered to hand.

After a short, late-afternoon fishing session the next day, catching some cutthroats to add to the intended grouse dinner, we again found some birds. We tried to get organized, but waited too long and the grouse flushed. I followed them with Finn, on leash first, but as I got downwind, I let him run. The birds were in the open, and two grouse flushed out of range, but the third one hesitated, and once airborne, followed the downhill slope which curved towards me. I gave him a good two body lengths lead, and the bird crumbled at the shot. Another nice retrieve for Finn.

We investigated the crops of our birds and found they contained fresh leafy greens, and whitish, or light-yellow berries. We have yet to identify what those were. The fresh greens indicated that perhaps water courses, or the few fields that had not been grazed recently, were the preferred feeding areas this time of the year. But again, this is speculation, based on just a few observations.

At night, my friend’s son cooked us up a nice meal of cubed, breaded grouse breast, and cutthroat trout. A few cold beers went with that, and life could not have been much better.

Seek Outside Cimarron Light/Stove combo – first experiences

I’m getting old. There, I said it. Bones ache, injuries comes easy and take a long time to heal, and mostly, I feel a strongly decreased desire to endure discomfort. Cold nights in a tent on a windy mountain don’t appeal as much as they used to, and they only appealed moderately to begin with. For some reason cold gets to me quickly, which would make for a very short outdoor season if I were to give in.

Enter the “hot tent”. Horse guys have drug around canvas wall tents and iron stoves for a long time, but backpackers had to wait for lightweight fabrics and thin light sheet metal and the idea of some brilliant manufacturer to put it all together into something that could be carried on a man’s back without breaking it. I don’t know when the first lightweight stoves came onto the market, probably long ago, as I am generally slow to catch on, but after enduring years of marketing, and mostly positive reports on the media, I finally gave in and ordered a Seek Outside Cimarron Light pyramid-ish tent and their Large sized titanium box stove and chimney pipe.

Last weekend the weather was perfect for laying on the couch, watching Youtube videos of people catching big trout in sunbathed Western rivers, so after some serious discussion with the inner sloth, I packed up and headed out, encouraged by a very excited pup who figured all this gear accumulating by the front door could only mean one thing: we’re going hunting! Here are a few observations based on this one night of experience and the preparations leading up to that.

The seams on the tent need to be sealed. You can either do that yourself with the provided tubes of goop, or have Seek Outside do it for a fee. Before going cheap like I did, consider if you have a spot where you can either set-up, or hang and stretch out this tent with a sizeable footprint, and still be able to walk around to apply the goop. Also consider the weather if you are considering doing this outside, since the stuff needs a certain temperature to set properly. Let the goop sit long enough for it to set completely!
Do a trial set-up in controlled conditions (a good idea with any tent). The tent comes with pieces of cord that need a loop tied to them and finagled through the pieces of plastic on the stake-out points. Best done indoors, and not on a windy hillside somewhere with your fingers freezing.
The stove, mostly the chimney, needs a break in (by burning a fire in the stove, so the metal will heat-set). First-time rolling of the chimney is best done with a few people and a piece of PVC pipe as a mold. I’ve seen video of a guy trying to do this alone in the field, and the result was a severely mangled chimney pipe. After the first burn the metal will have a tendency to pop back to the shape it was in under heat.

Staking the tent fabric close to the ground requires that you keep the loop in the cords as close to the tent as possible, with the stakes hammered in at an angle. The shape of the tent causes an upwards pull on the loops, which you can counter by having the stakes in at, say, a 60 degree angle. Then if you want to have ventilation space at the bottom, you can slide the loops up until they sit in the notches near the top of the stakes.
By the way, this tent has three guy-out loops, on the sides that do not contain the door, but it does not come with cord to do so, and it comes with only one extra tent stake surplus to the number of stake-out loops on the bottom, so you’ll need to buy two more stakes or rely on vegetation or rocks.
Do NOT hammer in the stakes too deeply if you are dealing with frozen ground, or you’ll have a heck of a time getting them back out.
The carbon pole is a four-piece affair, though it comes assembled as a three-piece. You can even manipulate it so in storage it is a two piece. Here is the danger. The springy thingies at the end of some of the pole segments, used to fasten the pieces together are not secured inside the poles! Innocuous as it may sound, if by improper handling you manage to push one or more of those things further into the pole sections, the metal protrusion doesn’t pop up anymore, and you cannot fit the pieces together! I got lucky that I hadn’t pushed them too deeply, or I’d have been hooped, or would have had to chop a sapling to size to get the tent set up. Now I got lucky and with a tiny stick I managed to push them back out. Of course these things always happen at -15 oC/5 oF and never during a summer’s day. So beware of those springy thingies, keep the protrusions popped up through the holes in storage, which may mean sticking with a 3 piece.
Set up in the field was easy, with the previous practice in mind. Stake the corners, push up the pole, stake the remaining loops and guy-outs, all pretty simple (there was no wind). In a gale I can imagine this being a little harder. Stove assembly is fairly simple too, though fitting the rods through both holes (top and bottom of the stove) can be a bit tricky. Keep in mind that all this is simple in the backyard, with a beer to wash away any frustrations, but can become a major task after a long arduous hike in sub-zero weather. Try fitting a small wingnut on a threaded rod with mitts on, and you’ll understand.
It wasn’t very windy, but there was a fair bit of movement and some creaking where the chimney meets the stove, and flapping of tent fabric whenever there was a breeze, so it will be interesting to see how this all behaves when the winds are up to 50 mph (not uncommon around here).
Floorless. To floor or not to floor. I guess it depends on conditions and the type of trip. If you want a stove, you need a floorless, I assume, to prevent melting a hole in your tent? For argument’s sake, let’s say that is correct. If you are on a run and gun kind of trip, on the move all day till late at night, jumping in the tent just to fix a meal and sleep (and you don’t need a stove to keep you warm while sitting around), then a regular backpacking tent would be preferable. But if your are spending any amount of time in camp, going in and out of the tent regularly, or you are camping around the winter equinox with more hours of darkness than daylight, then the flexibility of the floorless tent with some headspace is nice to have. Keep your boots on when you walk in and out (walk, not crawl), a warm place to sit and read whiling away the long dark evening before bed time, it’s all very nice to have. If you are planning to hunt out of a fixed location where you’ll be returning every night, the little extra weight of the tent/stove combo is definitely worth it. If you run into weather, like days of rain on end, it seems like a no-brainer that the comfort of this set-up compared to holing up into a small one-person tent can make the difference between going home and staying out. Throw a dog into the mix, and the choice is clear. No risk of nails puncturing the tent bottom, no muddy paws all over your stuff. Provided you have taught him the difference between a sleeping bag and the dog blanket. Mine is a work in progress in that respect.
Condensation and bugs, the big issues. Unfortunately I will have to defer judgement on those. At -15 oC there are no bugs to worry about, and any moisture in the air does not turn to droplets on the tent’s inner, but it freezes. Clearly there could be moisture issues. During the night I could see a layer of frost build up on the fabric above me. However, this disappeared quickly whenever the stove was going. That said, the bottom foot of fabric was never ice-free. Heat rises and the outside bottom edge is pretty far removed from the source of heat. It will be interesting to see how this will pan out during humid but above-freezing conditions. Keep in mind that this tent was purpose-bought for the mission, which is early and late season hunting or exploration, and that it is unlikely that I will use it without the stove, which should keep condensation issues to a minimum. Ask me again in six months or so.
This tent has a huge footprint for a two-person shelter. I know it is claimed that four guys can sleep in this (with their gear outside). You can probably fit 5 or 6 in there if you really wanted to, but for comfort (which is where we started out), I’d say that two persons, and one gun dog, with room for gear, stove and firewood is about as good as it gets. See comment above about the ice build up on the bottom. I’d not want my fancy down sleeping bag to be rubbing on all that ice, and subsequently get wet, so the effective footprint is a little smaller. You can stuff some non-temperature sensitive gear closer to the edges I guess, but given that everything you put there will freeze, keep things more centralized could be advisable. For me and my hunting puppy this is a little palace, and over time we’ll figure out the optimal configuration of who lies where. E.g. putting a puppy that likes to chew on sticks next to the stack of fire wood, when you are trying to sleep, is not a good idea.
Running the stove to provide a steady temperature level inside may require a bit of practice, and may require manipulating damping controls in the door and chimney and size of wood used, considering also the dryness of your fuel, the amount of ventilation you have going, and so forth. Also note that this thing has no thermal mass to speak off, so when the fire dies down, the temperature drops rapidly.
I have yet to discover how best to transport the stove in a backpack. The tent is easy enough as it folds and rolls up and fits into a shapeless bag that you can stuff anywhere. The stove is made of awkwardly rectangular panels and the pipe, even rolled up sideways, has some bulk. The sheet metal is thin enough that I suspect you don’t want to crush it too much with compressions straps common on most backpacks. For this first trip I strapped it to the outside of my pack, where it covers up two external pockets, and gets undone every time I need to be in the main bag. Something I need to work on. If anybody has experience with transporting these things I am open to suggestions.
Cooking: I trusted my ability to get a fire going (got lucky, threw in a spare lighter and wouldn’t you know it, the main lighter wouldn’t fire!), and did not bring a gas burner, just a billy pot to put on the flat upper of the stove. While a little slower than a Pocket Rocket or Jetboil, you can boil water reliably, or endeavour more challenging culinary experiments. Remember though that you’re not supposed to do that in your tent in grizzly country. And grizz stay out a lot longer than you think. Just because we had a few frosts and some snow doesn’t mean that they are all hibernating.
The verdict: would I buy it again, knowing what I know now? It’s perhaps a little early to tell. It got me out on a weekend that was cold enough to keep me from overnighting with regular gear, so that’s a win. Set up on flat ground is easy enough; stove transport a little awkward until I learn a better way. You can stay warm and dry out gear in cold and wet conditions. Unproven (by personal experience) as yet in the wind. It’s a fantastic shelter if you are bringing a dog. It has a lot going for it therefore. At US$ 929 plus shipping it is not a cheap proposition, but then lightweight comfort in the backcountry seldom is. It may just be the ticket to keep these aging bones going to the mountains a little longer. What would make it really perfect would be one those small folding chairs. Ah, the luxury of leaning back, stretching the legs, putting another mini-log on the fire, taking a swig from the hip flask, admiring the wet-steaming dog that pointed those coveys of ptarmigan, while the weather outside is taking a turn for the worse… wait, that might be next year’s adventure.

DISCLAIMER: All experiences listed above are based on two set ups, of which one in the backyard, and a grand total of 15 hours in the tent (5pm till 8am).

Four Point Kennels

In our search for a breeder of Small Munsterlander pups, we were extremely lucky to find one a mere 20 minute drive away. Tanner and Toby run their operation a little North of what used to be a small town, on a acreage with horses, goats, chickens, pigeons and quail, and two blocks of kennels inhabited by their band of very merry Munsterlanders.

Tanner and Toby are very personable individuals, who make you feel welcome from the get go, and who go to great lengths to show off their dogs and provide you with all the info you need to make a decision on whether a Small Munsterlander is for you.

Not being a person that makes decisions on the fly, with a desire to control all parameters that borders on the unhealthy, I struggled a lot through the process of selecting a pup, or rather selecting three. When the sorting was all done, and all the pups had traveled home with their new owners, I asked Tanner and Toby to put some words to paper about the history of their kennel, their breeding program and more specifically how they deal with the process of matching pups to owners.

Four Point Kennels history – how did you come to the Small Munsterlander breed, and what attracted you to starting the kennel and your breeding program?

Tanner was looking for a dog for his Dad to hunt with that could do both waterfowl and upland game, but smaller than a Labrador Retriever. After researching and contacting a few breeders, Hunting Hills’ Vivi Katy was welcomed into the family as Wayne’s dog. Soon after falling in love with the versatility of Katy, Robingun’s Cindy Lou Who arrived as a female breeding prospect.

What are your goals/visions for your line of breeding?

Our goal as a kennel is to breed healthy, stable Small Munsterlanders who are also well balanced, loving companions in the home. A dog’s temperament is as significant as their hunting ability so we strive to produce truly versatile hunting dogs that can not only hunt but also be a lifelong member of a family. Each litter is planned for the improvement of the breed and our breeding program.

How did you pick the name “Four Point” for your kennel?

Four Point Kennels was chosen with a compass in mind. Being a symbol for guidance, and the ability to point you in the right direction, in a way our bird dogs act like a compass for directing us to where game birds are. We also wanted to see the pups we were producing go in all directions across North America.

How do you get prospective buyers? Do they contact you? Do you have to advertise?

We do not advertise our dogs. People tend to find us through internet searches, social media platforms or word of mouth. They usually contact us by phone or email, or fill out a puppy application located on our website.

What criteria do you apply to prospective buyers?

We only sell to hunting homes, so it must be a hunting home in order for us to place one of our pups with a prospective buyer. Our dogs love us, but they live to hunt. We want to see them doing what they were bred to do. Obviously having previous dog experience (hunting dog or not) is always a plus. Wanting to test their pup in NAVHDA (North American Versatile Hunting Dog Associating) OR AKC/CKC trials is an asset as well. We view puppy applications as a prospective buyer’s resume.

What does your ideal future Four Point puppy owner look like?

Someone or a family that is going to love the heck out of their hunting partner and companion. Hone the dog’s natural ability and desire to hunt game. Obviously hunt with their dog. We love to get updates on the pups we’ve put on the ground and are here to help our puppy owners, so not being afraid to reach out when they have questions, or are stuck on something during training.

When multiple people express a liking for the same puppy how do you manage that?

This is one of the main reasons we ask puppy buyers to pick their top three and we place the pup within that is best suited. It eliminates picking a pup based off of looks and markings, and sets our buyers up for better success with personality being the priority. We often breed a roan to a brown/white so we can get roughly a 50/50 roan to brown/white ratio. We try to accommodate buyers’ preference in colouring, but if there are only three roans out of six males, we will just tell people they need to drop a roan from their list and add a brown/white. If they don’t want to, they will have look elsewhere for their Small Munsterlander pup, or be bumped to the next litter.

How do you go about assessing the personality of future owners, and that of the puppies?

Quite often a casual conversation about our dogs and hunting will tell us a lot about future owners. Often people will send us an email telling us about their lifestyle giving us a small glimpse into their lives, which always helps as well. If you live close to us, it’s easier for us to get an idea of personality types. If you live a long distance from us, we make an effort to either phone, email or text multiple times to keep things fresh when we start looking to place the pups.

What process do you go through to match owners/puppies? How much is reasoning, and how much “gut feel”?

We’re probably looking at 50/50 for reasoning and gut feel. We spend a lot of time with the pups we are raising. So we get to see their personalities develop, and sometimes change as the dynamic in the litter changes, or they are introduced to new things. For example, a baby bird dog can tell you a fair amount about their personality during their first encounter with a pigeon or coturnix quail.

When we have a puppy buyer that does more waterfowl hunting, we look for pups with a high retrieving desire or wanting to pack a toy around in their mouth at a young age. We don’t really take the size of the pup into consideration as sometimes the runt of the litter is no longer a runt in their new home. Our stud dog Camilo is a whopping 42lbs and will retrieve Canada geese for us repeatedly. He has a lot of heart in a tiny package.

If we have a first time pointing breed owner, we tend to avoid placing the alpha bitch with them, or a pup that tends to be more independent compared to other pups. We want our puppy buyers to be successful with their hunting partners, and we strive to put pups on the ground that anyone can train whether this is your first hunting dog, or your fourth. If you are a loud boisterous person, we don’t necessarily want to put a timid pup with you, or put a timid pup with a young family. Ultimately, the personalities need to match.

It’s hard to describe hunting characteristics besides waterfowl hunting and having a strong desire to retrieve. With upland hunting, the genetics should be there based off of the sire and dam pairing. So besides seeing the more methodical puppy that points and watches the quail fly off, or the pup that is more bold in their approach and points the quail, but then wants to chase it down and pick it up, puppy placement goes more towards personality of the person and pups at that point.

Find out more about Four Point Kennels and their dogs at www.fourpointkennels.com/

Meet Loki!

When you look into a little hunting puppy’s eyes, one that you have just brought home, a little shivering bundle of promise, torn away rather unceremoniously from his eight-week old world, yet oddly trusting that life with you will be the best thing that could have happened to him, it’s hard to not feel a little emotional. The human equivalent of what just happened to the pup would be unimaginably sad. But quickly the little munchkin shows you that you need not worry. He is here with you now, life is good, let’s get going!

A whirlwind two weeks have passed since we picked him up. It took us a week to settle on a name, but it is official now: meet Loki!

The first night was a little rough. He howled for a while, probably an hour, and my presence on a mattress next to his crate did nothing to alleviate his sorrow. I slept next to him for a week, but after three nights he went into the crate quietly, and the first night that I moved upstairs he didn’t whimper or whine for seven glorious hours. That’s about where we still are. I think he is up with the first crack of daylight so Daylight Saving Time is timed well this year.

The first few days we just let him adjust, and took him out for short walks. Our old dog Teeko wanted nothing to do with him, and still doesn’t, but Loki keeps trying. We need to separate them from time to time as the old guy’s knees are not up to enthusiastic puppy attention.

“Sit”, “Here”, “Pillow” and “No”, are the only commands we’ve been using. The first three go fairly well, especially when he knows food is on hand. The “No!” command, well, sometimes it works, but often it needs repeating. There are just too many fun things that need trying!

He had two visits with his sibling Purdey (formerly known as “I am Bulletproof”), and got acquainted with horses, and their tasty excrement.

We spent a few walks on getting used to cars driving by, and watching school busses come up the hill, something we need to continue doing. He’s improved lots already since that first scary encounter. Being a passenger in our vehicles is going very well, we’ve had several trips. He doesn’t particularly love being put into his kennel, but he’s accepting now.

I’ve had a grouse and a duck wing out in the field, and he worked the wind like a champ. He’s not shy about taking those into his mouth, and, if left unchecked, would certainly eat them.

People still puzzle him a bit, he is very cautious when he sees unfamiliar faces, but if the human party is understanding and patient, he quickly warms up to them. With the COVID restrictions it just isn’t as easy to line up a good variety of meetings, but we take every chance encounter we can get.

Today, the two-week point in our relationship, we celebrated with a big trip out to the sporting clays range, about an hour’s drive from here. On a nice day like today, it was packed with shooters. We stopped about half a mile from the trap stations, and just went for a little walk. No problem. Then we closed the distance to about a quarter mile, and did some “sit” and “here” drills, involving some good treats. All was well. I think I was more bothered by the blasts than Loki was. Next stop was across from the parking lot. He was not bothered at all, so I decided to walk up the drive. All trap stations and two of the skeet stations were occupied. Still good. At the back of the club house we met a friendly gentleman, who gave him some good attention. That sealed the deal; Loki didn’t want to leave. He met a few more friendly people, and we walked around the club house, bringing us within some 35 yards of active shooting stations. Still no reaction to the shots at all. A very good introduction to gun fire, I think.

That leaves house training. He doesn’t pee in the house if we take him out every hour, but I’m convinced that the concept of peeing out on the backroad instead of in many much more convenient places has not yet sunk in.

I think it was the evening of day three when he first crawled into my lap, and settled in for his nap. Possibly I have been found worthy. Now, if only I can manage to not disappoint him.