Passing on the passion

What are your favorite childhood memories? For many, it would be a trip to an amusement park? A family trip? maybe their first dance or kiss? For me, nothing compared to the outings when I could wrap my fingers around my Remington 12 gauge shotgun.  The smell of sage, burnt gun powder, and the innards of a grouse meant success and a smell I longed for as a child.

whoah, check out that microwave!

My dad is a better bird hunter than a big-game hunter, mainly because of his deep passion he's had since a child for watching and identifying birds of all feathers; we grew up hunting partridge, grouse, and waterfowl throughout Utah. As a child, the rush that comes from the explosion of silver wings meant everything to me; bird pictures, tails, feet, feathers, beaks, and bands decorated my childhood bedroom walls and shelves as evidence (and souvenirs) to my love for bird-hunting.



Tyler, Anthony's son, doing what he loves...shooting a 10/22.



Recently, my brother Anthony, my dad, and I took both Hunter and Tyler (my brother's 9 yr. old son) on a chukar/quail hunt in eastern Oregon. Through the years, my love for bird-hunting hasn't diminished much, however my love for big-game hunting has slowly taken precedence. My hope was this quick trip would give our sons the opportunity to experience the same excitement of pursuing gamebirds as Anthony and I had growing up. Well, this trip exceeded those expectations.

Hunt 'em up!! Quail on the run.

Not only did the boys get a taste of great bird-hunting, the trip helped rekindle my own love for upland game hunting, as well as let us Burrell boys reunite and spend some time together in one of our favorite places on earth. We set up the wall tent, shared great food (thanks to grandma), had great campfire conversations, and experienced quality bird hunting you couldn't get at a paid preserve. The valley quail were as thick as fleas on an alley mutt, hanging tight to the thick sagebrush stands that protected the cold desert creek.

The chukars? Well, I've never seen such high densities in my life. They seemed to be calling from every rocky terrace.




 

I'm proud of both Hunter and Tyler and their natural abilities to get up on the birds and actually knock a few down! They chased running quail through the brush waiting for a good shot, knocking them down one by one. By the end of the trip, they were a quail's worst nightmare.

Another highlight of the trip was when Hunter and I watched a coyote came into the call after 51 minutes. Hunter shot the coyote at 40 yards with the .243.

I will have to say the most memorable event was the last evening. Hunter and I had jumped a flock of chukars and knocking only one out of the flock. We knew where they had landed and it was steep, rocky, and a long ways away. I asked Hunter if we should head back to camp or go after them again. I thought he looked a bit tired, hot, hungry, and ready to play with the fire back at camp but his response surprised me "let's go get them!". I smiled and off we went. We circled above a steep slope of cheat grass and sage to have the uphill advantage on the educated birds.



Hunter pursuing chukar. Notice the wall tent in the far distance



I told Hunter to circle around one side of a cliff band and I would come from the other end. It was then I realized how quickly my boy is growing up. I just sent him off to scale a small cliff with a semi-auto shotgun in hand without second guessing his or my safety. I completely trusted him to be responsible.  Seconds later, a flurry of wings exploded from below me. I folded a young bird quickly and watched as two birds rocketed towards Hunter. Those birds were at top speed as they passed Hunter but with one shot, the lead bird dropped from the evening sky.

We sat and admired each feather in the dim light on the cliffside. "Dad, that is great when the birds flush from right around you and you have to hurry and pick a bird." I smiled. On our way back to the campfire, Hunter focused the conversation on maybe saving his money and getting a real birddog (compared to a "ball/rock dog like our untrained golden retreiver) that could help find live and dead birds. "That sounds like a great idea son".

       

Tyler spotting Grandpa on a long-bomb shot



Cold Morning



Morning Frost



Grizzly + Assualt Rifle= FUN