A Season To Remember, Part 3; The Sticky Toffee Pudding Massacre

My last driven shooting day in England would be back at Watton. The day started like it always had, with a sausage sandwich and a tea from the farm stand while everyone gathered at the farm yard and the day's plan was played out. This day would be different. Not because the decision had been made to shoot the drives in reverse order, but because some quality shenanigans were in the works.

I've said it before, and I'll say again; driven bird shooting, like most bird shooting isn't about the shooting. It's about a good day spent in the countryside, camaraderie, and the craic. Sometimes it's more about the craic than other times. This was one of those days. And your's truly was the target. I brought it on, myself. And I was relatively certain there would be some pay back for my off season offering.

To make this story complete, the back story is in order. Last year, a photo of two of my mates, in matching tweeds, surfaced. I couldn't let that go, and knew what I'd have to do. So, a screen capture, a bit of cropping, and an internet search later, and I was packing and shipping a pair of custom, nesting coffee mugs with heart shaped handles. Presented at the syndicate's season end dinner it not only got a laugh, but set in motion the events of my last day at Watton.

SL and CC

Now, it is important to know that I full well expected pay back. And I will say that after a days of shooting with the guys, and there yet to have been even an attempt, I was beginning to get a little worried. Surely these  guys were up to the challenge. Well, they didn't disappoint. Last year I'd shown my Achilles heel, when I made my enthusiasm for sticky toffee pudding (with a dollop of clotted cream) known. Sticky toffee pudding is a most excellent dessert seldom found in the US. I liked STP, and that was not lost on them. 

So, as the day began to take shape, I was approached by a member of the syndicate. He came bearing a two pack of microwavable sticky toffee pudding. He'd remembered I had a fondness for the dessert, and had found them at the grocery store, and thought I would enjoy eating them at home. How thoughtful. I was truly pleased and impressed. A couple minutes later another member approached and handed me a two pack of sticky toffee pudding, thinking I would enjoy taking a few home. Wow! How thoughtful, and coincidental, I thought. I do like sticky toffee pudding, so.... A few minutes later I third member of the syndicate approached bearing a two pack of sticky toffee pudding.  Oh! I get it. Looking across the barn yard I saw CC standing by his truck smirking. 

     "I know what you've done!" I hollered. "Well done!" 

Retribution was been handed out,.... all day. Even after the lunch break I was still being gifted sticky toffee pudding. Unbeknownst to me, the sticky toffee pudding I had stowed in the truck was being snuck out and given to others to give to me. They just seemed to be coming, and coming. By days end, I was the lucky recipient of 16 sticky toffee puddings, and a sticker toffee pudding ale.

The Sticky toffee pudding wasn't exactly the end of it, however. The syndicate has a shaming system.  Commit an offense of any kind, and the next weekend you'd be made to carry your gun in a pink gun slip. Well, the week earlier I'd forgotten a few empty hulls on my peg after a drive. I'd alerted a member of the syndicate of my mistake, but the damage was done, and I would be awarded the pink gun slip. 

So this,.....

became this.

As for the day's shooting? Well, I lucked out and found myself with warm barrels on hot pegs, and got in some great shooting. In fact, I'd say it was my best shooting day of the trip.

And as for the sticky toffee pudding, and the craic,.......

...I won.

A Season To Remember; Woodcock flights and England Flights. Part 2

England Bound

     A couple weeks after my last trip north, with my banner woodcock day still fresh in my mind I found myself sitting onboard an Aer Lingus flight to England. Last year when I was in England it was suggested that I spend a bit more time, and get in a few more shooting days. So arrangements were made, and I was off for a 2 week shooting adventure. The trip was scheduled to have me fly the red eye a Wednesday, and depart 2 weeks later on a Wednesday. This gave me a few days of acclimation before my first shoot day, and a few recovery days after my last, with 4 shooting days scheduled from Saturday to the following Saturday. The days in-between shoots would be spent driving the countryside, and exploring outfitters and businesses catering to the shooting community.

Watton

     My first shooting day was with the Watton-Carrs Syndicate in the Driffield area of east Yorkshire. My host PP and I were on the road to the shoot early, watching the shy brighten through the windshield of his truck. In what has become a bit of a tradition, just prior to arriving at the shoot we stopped at the farm stand for what may be the best sausage sandwich in England.

     Arriving at the farm I made the rounds, catching up with those I'd shot with before, and meeting new members I'd not.  As the cold was stamped out of toes, dogs allowed to run out a bit of energy, and pie money collected the day began to take shape. Pegs were drawn, and we headed out.  Coincidentally, a guest gun, T,  who I'd met last year was shooting with the syndicate again, adding  yet another level of familiarity to my trip.

     I don't remember which number I drew, but I was stood out in a field facing a wood. There was a hedge and a ditch to my right with PP on the next peg over the hedge. To my left other guns lined out through the field. Soon the shooting began. I've been on somewhat of a quest to shoot a European Woodcock, and late November, and December are when the Woodcock are in Yorkshire. As fate would have it the cry of "Woodcock!" could be heard down the line, a shot rang out, and PP tumbled a good woodcock that had flown the hedge between us. A second woodcock flew the hedge, but I held back, it flying just above the height of the hedge. Not high enough or safe enough to be of my liking.  I mightn't have killed a woodcock, but I would be carrying one out after the drive, PP's woodcock having fallen my side of the hedge.

     The day would have it's moments, and it was the second drive I was to shoot on that I remember the best. It started out all wrong when syndicate member Bubbles tumbled down a steep embankment into a wet ditch. Somehow he managed to keep gun, cartridges, and cell phone out of the 6" of water at the bottom. It is remarkable the protection from the elements a good set of tweeds can provide, Bubbles only a bit damp in a few areas. After hauling Bubbles up the bank we proceeded to our pegs and continued shooting.  On this drive I was stood on a ride between a wood to my left, and "Bubbles Brook" and a hedge to my right. The shooting was much quicker, snap shooting, and at some point I got a good look at nicely presented cock pheasant which I folded with my first shot. The bird tumbled into the wood hitting every branch on the way down, before bouncing off a plastic drum feeder ringing it like a bell, which got a chuckle out of those who witnessed it. After the drive had ended, as we collected our birds and made our way out of the wood Bubbles emerged with a fox that had been pushed right to him by the beating line. A bonus, indeed.

    Like always we all stood 3, and beat 3, and had several memorable moments. Like can happen, I'd not drawn the best pegs, and I don't recall how many birds I killed, but I'd killed the one's I'd felt I should have, and had a great day. Shooting with a walk 1- stand 1 syndicate is about much more than just killing birds. The time spent beating and putting good birds over the line, and the craic are equally important.

Cropton

     On Wednesday I found my self again in tattersall and tie, this time heading out to shoot with another walk 1- stand 1 syndicate in Cropton where I was able to fill in for a regular member show couldn't attend.  Cropton is a bit different from Watton. Watson shoots over fields, with the birds being driven from woods and hedges. Cropton is a woodland shoot. Some birds are driven over fields, but many drives are also out over breaks in the woods. the topography is very much like where I hunt grouse and woodcock in northern New England, and some of the woods I saw at Cropton I would have been more than happy to rough shoot for woodcock over a spaniel. Another difference is that Cropton employs the use of a shoot trailer to shuttle people around.

     Cropton was interesting in many ways. Again, and I wouldn't know this until the day had ended, I didn't draw good pegs, from a shooting stand point, but from a spectators point of view they were pretty damned good. The first drive of the day was awesome. I was part of the beating team, but the wood didn't require all of us, so I was stood behind the line of guns and tasked with marking and picking up shot birds. The guns were stood in a line in the bottom os a steep valley with a stream just in front of them. The beaters pushing birds from high on top of the opposite side, which had been logged. The birds came high and fast, some curling on set wings, and descending slightly to make for tricky shooting. Sometimes coming in small flushes, and at other times coming in singles and pairs this drive was exciting to watch.

     My first drive was like none I'd seen before. I was stood in a somewhat marshy area that looked more like somewhere one would hunt moose. Surrounded by tall pines the birds came by in singles and pairs. The shooting was quick, snap type shooting, but with more of a window than when I was stood on the ride at Watton.  I got in a fair amount of shooting at marginal birds a bit far, or crossing in front, which I didn't mind missing very much because they were marginal, but when I good cock pheasant came over, trying to get past between me and the gun to my right I was happy to fold him into the baby pines and thick underbrush behind us. Fittingly, it was PP's cocker, Snitch, who was on pick up duty in my area and picked my bird.

The walk in to the first drive I would shoot at Cropton.

     As the day progressed I was on a peg in the middle of the line, in a field looking at another wood I was certain would hold woodcock. On this drive PP and snitch stood at the ready to load and pick if needed. Neither was to be, and the same 2 cartridges I dropped in to my 20g Browning O/U made it back into my pocket after the drive. The drive, however, proved to be great to see some good high birds killed. The second and third guns down the line to my left, closest to the bordering high pines were on hot pegs, were shooting with some efficiency. I've seen some nice YouTube videos of good high birds being killed, but there is nothing like watching it as it unfolds. Were these towering birds? No, but they were consistently right around the 50 yard mark. It was a pleasure to watch.

Myself and Snitch on The Spectator Drive. The gun stood next to the treelike behind me in the picture has some awesome birds come over him. It was a thrill to see some high birds killed.

     Later I would have the pleasure of watching Snitch in the beating line as we beat a big brushy cut towards a swath of pines, the guns stood on the farm road on the other side. The beating line produced plenty of good birds for the guns, but it was at the bottom when twice Snitch turned on the wind, and drove in on tight sitting birds making good hard flushes.

The cut we pushed where Snitch did some great work.

     The day concluded with everyone making their way to the Blacksmiths Arms for a post shoot drink and a full dinner. While I had not drawn a hot peg, and had only killed one bird, I was happy with the way the day played out.  got to see some spectacular shooting, some sporting birds, mouth watering drives, good dog work, and met some great people. Like I said, it's not about killing birds, but about a day in the countryside with good friend and good people.

Escrick

     We would pick up the shooting again 2 days after Cropton with a visit to the Escrick Park Estate just south of York. In planning my trip I was presented with the possibility of being part of a team of guns being assembled for a day at the estate. I had never been on an estate shoot, nor even taken part on a fully driven day. Until this point all of my driven shooting had been walk 1- stand 1, but now I would experience nothing but unadulterated shooting for 5 drives on a 150 bird day.

     The day began before sunrise as the team of 10 guns dressed in their finest tweeds assembled at the shoot lodge for a full English breakfast before heading out for the first drive. Over sausage, beans, toast and coffee the day's craic began to get going. The shoot manager arrived as we were finishing off our coffee, gave us the ground rules, and we drew pegs. Escrick uses an old method of moving up and down pegs on successive drives; Odd numbers move up, even numbers move down. This means on each drive you will have different neighbors. I drew peg 2 for the first drive. This would mean on the second drive I'd drop to peg 1, then 3, 5, and 7 respectively. I didn't know it at the time, but my poor peg slump was over, and I'd be on some hot pegs.

\

An Escrick Park estate dog.

     The first drive had the line of guns in a field facing a tall hedge about 75 yards forward, other about the same distance behind. Standing on my peg I was doing all I could to try to ignore the numbing cold in my fingers. The weather had turned and a bitter cold had settled on the area, and the wind was howling. My the numbness and tingling made me begin to doubt whether I'd be able to slip off the safety, and pull the trigger. I'd soon find out when a good cock pheasant came over to my left. The cold forgotten about I turned, and swung the gun on the bird. Well, not only had I forgotten about the cold, but I also forgot about the safety, and my gun remained silent. It was only minutes later that partridge began streaming over the hedge in small coveys, and while none actually came my way I got to warm my barrels a bit trying to secure a few my neighboring gun had missed as they went out the backdoor. I hadn't expected to be shooting partridge, and it was a welcome addition to my species list. I can also attest to how exciting they are when they come streaming over a hedge.

     On the second drive I was assigned to peg 1, which was a walking gun. This drive was similar to the first with the guns facing a hedge, but much further away this time. The beating line moved roughly perpendicular to the line of guns on the other side of the hedge. That was where I came in. the walking gun is responsible for birds that try to break back over the beaters. And they did. No sooner than the drive had begun, 2 partridge tried to break over the hedge and back away from the line. They failed, both being brought down by my bottom barrel. As the drive progressed others, both partridge and pheasant tried to exit stage left where I was waiting. Some made it through, some fell on my second shot, and a few were exactly the kind of challenging connections we hope for. About a third of the way through the drive a hen pheasant, broke back over the beating line, high and well over the hedge. Swinging through I secured the hen with a single pull of the trigger, and getting a rousing cheer from the beating line who'd seen it, appreciating that their hard work was not wasted. A few minutes later a cock pheasant tried the same escape route, and like the hen, was brought down with a single shot, again making the beating line happy. The shoot manager, who had been walking with me remarked that its a good thing when the beaters like your shooting. "Make sure they know it was the Yankee doing that shooting" was my reply. At the drives end I'd killed 6 or 7. I was happy. Off for a bit of elevensie.

A happy gun? Or trying to catch a ride on the wind?

Mixed bag at Escrick

     After elevensie we lined out in front of a game crop which was pushed towards us. I was stood with a hedge and a ditch to my left, with a tree straight in front at the edge of the game crop. While the tree was well ahead of me it shielded my view of incoming birds making the shooting a bit tricky. Unfortunately the birds had the wind to their back which did 2 things; make them fast, but put them on us before they had much height. By the drive's end I'd passed on a number of low birds, missed some good birds, and put pellets in 2 others. The added speed meant I'd need added lead, which I hadn't quite gotten my head wrapped around. That said, I'd pricked hard both a partridge and a pheasant which sailed to where the pickers-up were waiting.

The line of guns to my right on the 3rd drive.

     The fourth drive was interesting. I was stood on a ride in the wood with some of the guns lined in the field to my left, and others in the wood to my right. The shooting was snap shooting, with only a small window. The birds were coming over me, but in the shade, with the sun low in the sky my eyes were playing tricks on my. I was having a tough time judging distance, and many times birds were over me quicker than I'd expected. But the cry of "Woodcock!" kept me alert, and twice I had opportunities, though fleeting. The first woodcock passed low, left to right, but climbed as it went over my neighboring gun. A tree between us blocked a bit of my view, but the woodcock quickly emerged high over my neighbor before making it through without a shot fired. The next woodcock did almost the same thing, but passing right to left, gaining elevation. As the woodcock rose I began to swing and mount but the bird made it through a small strip of trees and out over the gun to my left, who made a fantastic shot on the now quite high woodcock. That was not the only woodcock killed on that drive, with J N nearly, but for a technicality, getting a left and a right on woodcock. A good woodcock came over, which he killed. He then took the gun out of his shoulder just before a second woodcock appeared. He then brought the gun up again, and killed woodcock number 2 with the unfired cartridge in his second barrel. Here in the US, killing 2 birds in flight, each with a successive shot is called a double (L & R in the UK). If the report of the gun is what puts the second bird in the air, and it is then killed, we call it a scotch double. J N, not sure if both birds were in the air at the same time, I'd credit with a scotch double.   I, however, would only have but a few spectacular misses on this drive.

JN with his 2 woodcock.

     The fifth and final drive had the guns lined out along 3 sides of a wooded outcrop of tall thick pines. As the beaters approached birds began to filter out, but it was clear that many of these birds had seen a line of guns before. Most of the pheasant  curled around and flew back in to the woods over tree top height before a shot could be fired, the partridge coming out low, many flushing not from in the woods, but when they reached the end. Still, some birds flew nicely, and I was able to kill a few good partridge.

A couple of the pickers-up,....

..and the fruits of their labor.

     The day at Escrick ended much the way it had begun, with the gun team sitting down for a good meal at the shoot lodge. While it was supposed to be a 150 bird day it didn't quite turn out that way. We ended up a bit short with a bag of 104; 36 pheasant, 63 partridge, 4 woodcock, and 1 pigeon. We racked up this bag with 406 shots, for a pretty good ratio. I had finally gotten some good peg, and had some quality birds, and I added another species to my list, having killed my first Red-Leg Partridge. Could the day have been better? Well, I was happy, but I could see why some of the others weren't thrilled. The bag was 1/3rd short, and while we were shown enough birds to have met the bag, a lot of those birds just weren't sporting. Some, as in the case of the last drive, just weren't even shots. I know it is hard to manage a shoot, but I would expect there to be contingency plans for days when the wind, or weather, is a factor. Surely there are drives that show better in such conditions. Anyway, Escrick shall not be judged on just one shoot. Conditions were tough, and given the opportunity I would shoot there again. just hopefully on a sunny, warm, still day.

Have you ever seen a better looking team of guns?

Part 3, The Sticky Toffee Pudding Massacre, coming soon.

A Season to Remember; Woodcock Flights, and England Flights. Part 1

       What a season it's been. Despite planning to hunt locally, and make a trip to Maine, the logistics around having a young puppy at home made getting out difficult this year. During the best weeks of the hunting season Bailey was too young to join me in camp, so he'd have to stay home. He was also too young to spend long days locked up at home, so I would have to juggle my outings around Bailey's needs and my wife's work schedule. No problem. The next season is always just around the corner. And, again I'd made plans to go shoot driven birds in England, so I knew there would be some quality shooting down the road.

Woodcock, woodcock, and more woodcock.

     Logistical issues aside, I managed to get away for a couple of quick trips north with Ginger. Not having planned anything out each trip began with a call to secure lodging and then a series of calls to see who would be up north while I was there. Turns out I would have the pleasure of sharing a few days with fellow spaniel man B McL, and his small pack. Together B and I spent a few days hitting some familiar coverts, and moving birds. We got into some grouse and woodcock, but it wasn't until we decided to explore some new territory that our barrels heated up.

     Late one day we decided to take a walk up a hillside which had by all appearances been cut 5-7 years before. The tops of the young saplings could be seen stretching up the hill as far as the eye could see. With daylight fading we made a quick push up one edge going about 1/2 mile from the road. What a 1/2 mile it turned out to be. I don't think we ever went more than 100 yards between woodcock finds, and by the time we made it back to the truck B McL was out of shells, and we both had heavy game bags.

     The next morning we knew exactly where we would be hunting. We started our walk a bit further down the road, choosing to walk the edge of a small cut of about the same age before heading up the hill. It turned out to be a great warm up for both dogs and guns, with the cry of "woodcock!" heard 4 times in the first 5 minutes, before even getting 100 yards from the truck. It wasn't until we hit the main hill that the guns started to really roar.

     The hillside was scarred with old skidded tracks of various widths. As we started the climb B McL took a kidder to the left and slightly up hill of me, while I worked Ginger in cover either side of what appeared to be an old wide skidded. The woodcock were there. In fact, they were everywhere on that hillside. There were times when B McL and I would be shooting at different woodcock flushes at the same time. On one occasion B McL shouted woodcock, and as I looked his direction a woodcock came off the hillside, high like a driven bird. I could hear the report of B's gun, but the high woodcock travelled on, so I turned and swung on it, folding it into the swampy creek below, a good primer for my upcoming trip to England. As Ginger was sent out for the retrieve I could here B's conversation with his springer, Willow. Seemed Willow, too, was out on a retrieve. She'd put two woodcock in the air; the one B had killed, the other I killed.

     The day would go on like this, with barrels not just heating up, but getting just plain hot. Some spectacular shots were made, and some equally spectacular misses recorded, too. As lunch time approached we decided to start hunting our way towards the truck. It was then, after reaching into my pocket for shells after recording one of those spectacular misses that I realized I other than the two shells in the Browning, that I'd only one shell left in my pocket. And I still needed 1 more woodcock to fill my limit. As fate would have it Willow flushed another woodcock my way as we were nearly back to the truck. I turned and took the bird, with my second barrel, just as it tried to escape into some thick stuff. Appropriately, Willow made the retrieve, Ginger having been working scent and not marking the fall a bit ahead. I'd filled my limit, and returned to the truck with 1 shell left.

     It probably doesn't have to be said, but this was without any doubt the best day I've ever had on woodcock, and I've had some good days in the past. We stopped counting flushes because they were coming too quickly, but discussing the day later, we both conservatively estimate 50 flushes by lunch time, though it  could have been twice that. As Grouse and Woodcock hunters are know to do, this covert deserved a name, and is thus called One Shell. The question remained, however; would this be the year I killed a driven woodcock in England?

Shotshells

     This year I decided to make a change in the ammo I shoot in the uplands. In England I came to appreciate the forgiveness of a 2 1/2" shell. I also like the idea of fibre wads. Plastic was don't break down, and sit on the forest floor forever. Fibre wads, being essentially cardboard break down and biodegrade. So this year I am shooting RST 2 1/2" fibre wad shells. And they work well.

To be continued in part 2

Disturbed Forest

     Now that the nights are getting cooler (finally) I feel like the hunting season is actually approaching. Truth is, it was approaching whether it felt like it or not, and up north it opens in 2 days. In some places it is already opened.

     Usually by now I have my entire season almost completely booked up, and planned, but this year I've decided to change my routine. So far I've only got 2 irons in the fire; my England trip in December, and a trip to Maine in November having accepted a very generous offer from an acquaintance. One should not infer that I will not be making quite a few trips to the uplands, and lowlands, and wetlands too. But, I've decided to do things different this year. It's been a long time since I seriously hunted my home state of Massachusetts, so I thought I'd stay for the most part local, this year.

     Without meaning to be pessimistic, but knowing it will sound that way I don't have very high expectations. I don't expect to have lots of grouse flushes like I do up north, but I do expect I'll get into some. I expect I'll see good woodcock numbers. Woodcock being migratory birds means they can be anywhere, anytime. Massachusetts uplands generally benefit from this, and I've had some really, really good days on woodcock in the past. I don't think this year will be any different. So why am I doing this? Well, my biggest expectation is to learn a bit more about my home state, and to see first hand the efforts the state has made to increase grouse and woodcock habitat. I expect I'll be pleased with what I see, and while this season my not yield the numbers I'd like, I fully expect to feel optimistic about the future of grouse and woodcock here.

     Earlier this month, at Grouse School, we went heavy on the importance of habitat. The first half of the day was spent on habitat, and there is a reason for that. Simply put, habitat management and creation is the single most important issue regarding the health of the Ruffed Grouse population. It seems like the officials at the wheel here in Massachusetts have finally come to realize that, and are managing the forest lands appropriately. The RGS video, Disturbed Forest, illustrates the need and the benefit of maintaining a balanced ecosystem, and the positive results that are the result of proper management. That's right, proper management, not popular management.

After The Storm, An RGS Event To Remember.

      Yesterday, with the generosity of the Massapoag Sportsmen's Club where I am a member and regular skeet shooter, I hosted a Ruffed Grouse Society event. The event was something I'd been thinking about doing for a few years, inspired by the number of times I'd had conversations with hunters who'd wanted to, but never tried hunting Ruffed Grouse and Woodcock. Often they'd state that they just didn't know where to find grouse and woodcock. So I thought I'd find a way to educate some of the local sportsmen. I called the event Grouse School.

     The idea of Grouse School was to give a sportsman who has never hunted grouse or woodcock enough info to confidently make a trip into the woods in search of them. Of course every RGS event gets a number of pretty loyal RGS members, so I had to also include enough of the more technical side of grouse and woodcock to keep them engaged. Habitat being the number one thing any grouse and woodcock hunter should really understand, it wasn't very difficult to build a program that would appeal to every experience level.

     Naturally, I doubted very much if anyone would take my word that I know a thing or two about grouse and woodcock hunting, so I had to bring a few people in. After a few phone calls, and emails I'd put together a group of guys I felt could really deliver the goods. Regional RGS biologist Andy Weik would lecture on habitat. Massachusetts state biologist David Scarpitta would lecture on hunting opportunities in Massachusetts. Bruce Bennett, who hosts an annual benefit hunt in NY, would lecture on private land management. After Lunch I would give a brief lecture on grouse dogs before Andy, with his red setter, and I, with my springer, would take the group out into the woods where we would do a grouse dog demo on released quail. While on the trail we would discuss tactics a bit, and naturally habitat, as we were in it. Outdoor writer Tom Keer would then lecture on Guns, loads, shooting technique, tactics, safety, and equipment. The event would culminate with an open floor, round table discussion.

     The day went pretty much as planned. Being the first time I'd attempted anything like this there were a few small snags, but if they weren't pointed out to you, you'd have never noticed them. All in all, I, as well as the others involved were very happy with the way the event turned out.  I will certainly make some changes to allow future events flow more smoothly. I hope the attendees were just as pleased, and walked away feeling like they learned something.

     I have a few ideas for other grouse and woodcock hunting educational clinics in the future. Hopefully they will go as well, if not better, than the Grouse School Debut.

     And lest I forget; a big thank you to Andy Weik, David Scarpitti, Bruce Bennett, Tom Keer, Bryan Lehr, Paul Schwalbe, Ernie Foster Jr, and the Massapoag Sportsman's Club. I also need to thank paul Fuller of Bird Dogs Afield who generously donated several items for door prizes at the event.

Me starting the day with introductions

 Captivated audience

Andy lecturing on habitat and scouting

David lecturing on hunting in Mass

Bruce lecturing on land management

(l-r) David, Andy, Myself, Tom

The Massapoag youth skeet team was on hand selling raffle tickets

Grouse School- RGS Event

     Some years ago I had an idea. This year I made it happen. What is it? Grouse School. Often when I haven't got the time to get away, up north for some proper grouse and woodcock hunting I will run the dog at a local WMA which is stocked with pheasant. She appreciates the work, and I get to eat an occasional pheasant. Often when there I will bump into another hunter, most often in the parking lot, and we will start talking. When the conversation turns to where else we hunt, and I tell them I don't hunt any other WMAs, but I go grouse and woodcock hunting the standard reply is that they'd love to try that some day, had thought about trying it, didn't know where to go,etc....

     Well, I'm not one for holding anyone's hand and walking them through the woods, but I sure don't mind leading them on a path of self discovery, so I thought "Grouse School".  It wasn't terribly hard to get off the ground. The Massapoag Sportsmans Club, where I regularly shoot skeet, had been trying to find ways to have more events at the club. I took my idea to some senior members, and was told go for it. A call to RGS regional biologist Andy Weik was next, and we were off and running. A few more phone calls to RGS, and some area chapter members put the icing on the cake, and grouse school was born.

So, if you are in the Massachusetts area, and would like to learn more about grouse and woodcock hunting, come on by.

When Simple Just Isn't, Part 3

     It's been a while since I last posted. It's not that I haven't had anything to say, I have. I just haven't had time to sit down and share my thoughts. I have been busy with a number of things, some of them have been outdoor related, others a symptom of adulthood,  but blogging just hasn't been one of them. Lets take a look at what has been my number one concern, and time consumer over the last couple of months. Do you care to guess? why yes. It has been my FBESS Ginger.

     Regular readers will remember my account of our attempt to breed Ginger last year. I posted about it in When Simple Just isn't; A Reproductive Adventure, and When Simple Just Isn't; Part 2. Well we were at it again. And simple it was not.

     In an attempt to carry forward what we think is an excellent pedigree and blood line, and maybe even begin our own line of springers we bred Ginger (Starbury Ponkapoag Ginger Snap MH) with Tommy (FC AFC CFC Frostfield Tommy SH). The thought of putting these two together excited several more well versed spaniel people we train, trial, and test with, so we were sure we were on the right track. When the time came Ginger was sent north to reside with our friend, and the pro we train with, Steve Church of Churchie Kennel and Gun Dogs in Epping NH. Steve lives the next town over from Tommy, and being friends with Tommy's owner, Mike, he agreed to help with the breeding. Tommy was brought to Steve's house, and Tommy and Ginger spent a couple of weeks together. Because we had some issues our last attempt to breed, Steve suggested rather than go through the process of repeated Progesterone testing, we just bring Ginger up to him and put the two dogs together a lot. This would let them get comfortable with each other, and when the time was right, they would tie. And tie they did.

     A couple days after the first tie, and after being sure that there would be no more Ginger came home and resumed normal life. We on the other hand were frantically trying to absorb every bit of dog breeding/whelping info that came our way while keeping an eye on Ginger for any changes. The changes were slow to come, and truthfully, we began to think the breeding didn't take, though there were some signs that it may have. At week 5 we took Ginger to a reproductive Vet where she underwent an ultrasound so we could see what was cooking. We were elated when the ultra sound revealed she was indeed pregnant and carrying 5 pups. It was happening.

     Well, we should have learned that nothing is ever easy. A few more weeks later, just days before Ginger was to whelp we went in for an x-ray to get a true count (ultrasound is not always accurate) so we would know how many to expect. To our surprise, and disappointment, Ginger was not carrying 5 pups. We will never know what happened, or why, but Ginger had singlet. She carried only a single, healthy, strong, and incredibly handsome male pup.

     Of course, puppies learn to be puppies, and eventually dogs through their interactions with their littermate. Raising a singlet is difficult, and has tried many breeders and trainers with much more experience and knowledge than we've got. So we reached out to the spaniel community. That is where we got very lucky, our friend Bev of Osage Kennels had whelped a litter of 6 only 4 days after us. She graciously agreed to foster our pup in her litter so he could learn the lessons that can only be learned in that environment.

     So, Allow me to introduce you to Ponkapoag's Bailey Island Castaway.

     Bailey will becoming home next week, and our new adventure in dog training will begin.