Hot Bite

I had thought the old storage shed was sort of mouse proofed. Right - sort of mouse proofed - so OK, I'm an idiot.
After completeing a few more proofing measures, the trap line was set - one peanut butter baited Victor on each end of the 10x12 catch all. Off I went to the next item of bussiness only to return in less than a minute to retrieve the work gloves that I had left behind. There, a fresh mouse in trap A, still in its death throws! I reset the trap and headed out the door. Two minutes later and I'm back for another item from the shed and Bingo! - there's another mouse in trap A!   This bait, set, leave, and return routine repeated itself with a catch in each trap - mostly doubles - for about a half hour and then it was over, done, quiet. I got ten.

It was kind of like a hot crappie bite through the ice - barely keeping both lines baited during the flurry - and then nothing. Not another deer mouse has bitten the dust in four days, so perhaps the shed is sort of mouse proofed for now. Right.................. 

Very Tweedy

I used to do a lot of this - the old road hunt ground pound.
Ranks right up there with sight fishing for spawning steelhead.
"Awesome Zeke, you Arkansawed that one real good!"

These days it's about dogs and doubles and counting flushes
But the leaves will fall soon and then there will be feathers on the forest floor.
"I say Reginald, capitol good shot that!"

Casually we participated

 There was no urgency to the opening outing. Rather, just a time to watch a new pup experience a new day. It is enough to enjoy that alone.  A few mouths full of ripe choke cherries and the smell of decaying leaves belies the density of the July thick woods.

It did rain to the tune of 1.25 inches on the opening day of grouse season. Largest one day total since June the sixth. We walked in the woods and did not carry a gun. No birds were flushed. Everyone got drenched and I found all the places where the new rain gear leaks - %&$#^@*!!!

The fungal fruits commence....

Bit by bit........

        There is but a dash of red and orange sparsely laid upon the forest floor now.  Not nearly enough to open the woods for much of a chance at a flushed grouse tomorrow morning. But the youngster is eager as always and Zane has not yet heard the blast of a shotgun. So, we will have a walk in the forest tomorrow. Ever so slowly fall is arriving. One leaf at a time.

At five and a half months, Zane is a practiced hunter of frogs, moths, dragonflies, chipmunks and other micro game. His powers of finding dead stinky stuff on our walks are remarkable. Its time to put those skills to the test on something a bit larger.  Perhaps we will be lucky enough to bag a bird or two. See how he reacts.........retrieves.........rejects...............shreds!!!  Should be fun.

Supposed to rain much of the day, and we need it, so there may be only a short time in the woods for us to experience the pup's first hunt. Always more water and boat/canoe/kayak training to do at home anyway. So far, so good - we haven't tipped over yet.

Tie this

    Waddling atop an overturned kayak
was spied an impossibly brilliant creature
who can it be, who will it be
I suppose a drab adult
a thing to tie for
much later in the year

Five days in

September arrived on the crest of a calendar perfect cold front. Daytime highs in the sixties and seventies have replaced the tropical days of August.  Frost advisory tonight in the wolf country.
The dogs found a covey of grouse a couple of evenings ago on the daily walkabout and it seems that Zane may have figured out what his nose is for. Back on the same walk this afternoon and he nearly went on point, just as a big adult bird thundered out of the alders almost in his face. At five months, I have just begun to connect with him. I knew going into this that a Poodle is not a Labrador - right I was!

Zane
a.k.a        Zboy
                LC  (lamb chop)
                Mr. Bedlington
                Mr. Sands
                Hey You !!!
                Yea You !!!!!
                 Mr. Bedlington Sands

 Uncle Mike dropped by with a few goodies from the farm

 Apple pie and Crap-pie!
 

                

Snipets from month eight

Punching the clock watching August slide away.
Goodbye to you, least favorite month
Gear untouched in weeks
Fishes abandoned
Time wasted in air conditioned spaces
And upon cold beer
Photographs grabbed in passing
With no time allowed for savor

September, the hearald of change
Brings the urgency of autumnal activity
Thirty days from today
The forest will be as a kaleidoscope
Gardens will wane and young pups will live for the first time
In the old routine of hunter and quarry
The hunter dons wool with purpose
Burrs to catch on dog and man.

So goodbye hot days
Drought spells
Stinging hornets and other bloodsucking fly swattage.
goodbye summer number sixty-one.