My new Winchester Wildcat .22 and Bushnell Elite scope rests on my dining room table.
I acquired a firearm with a semi-automatic action this morning for the first time in my life. The new gun is a Winchester Wildcat .22 with an 18-inch barrel. I bought it in a private sale from my friend and hunting buddy Jason. The rifle is virtually new and topped with a Bushnell Elite 4×12 scope. The gun is a right-hand model, but that is fine. I adapted to life as a southpaw long ago in a right-handed world. I bought the new .22 from Jason for an express purpose. In short, I need practice in aiming a rifle through a scope, steadying the rifle and squeezing the trigger. As some of you may surmise in reading my posts, I am a bird hunting enthusiast. Most of my shooting is with shotguns in pursuit of upland birds and waterfowl. I am a good wing shot; I mount, point, shoot and follow-through on birds. Some of the time I do, I always know what I did wrong when I miss. The fact is, shotgunning is a world apart from rifle shooting.
James poses in his layout blind with the two Canada geese taken on his first waterfowl hunt.
I got out for my second Canada goose hunt of the season early this morning. Joining me in the hunt were my hunting buddies Jason, a seasoned waterfowl hunter, and James, for his first waterfowl hunt. I had high hopes for our expedition; Jason and I had great shoots in seasons past on the harvested beanfield selected for this morning. Jason and I loaded the goose decoys into Jason’s pickup truck the day before. James stayed with Mika and me overnight as he lives in Cornwall. The three of us met on the beanfield at 5:00 am. I introduced James to Jason as they had not met in person. The beanfield is near Russell, a forty-minute drive from home. The field had lots of waste beans and chaff; it looked inviting to the migrating Canada geese–so we thought. What struck me, however, was the absence of feathers and droppings on the ground. I hope for the best and prepare myself for the worst outcome when I go hunting. I feared our morning goose hunt might be a disaster.Continue reading →
My friends and hunting buddies Jason and Fran made the difficult decision to grant their eleven-year-old hunting dog, Nos (short for Nosferatu), a dignified and painless exit from this life. Nosferatu means unholy terror–Nos was anything but save to the squirrels that strayed into the garden. Nos spent the last weeks of his life boldly carrying on as he had since he was a pup. Despite the increasing pain he experienced–his limp got worse as his hips gave out–he made it out for daily runs along the Rideau River. He caught a rabbit on one of these runs. He needed help getting in and out of Jason’s truck, but held his own as we walked. He happily retrieved his ball when Jason threw it into the river for him. Nos left us the way he lived. He is gone, and as we process our grief, I look back fondly on the time I had with him.
The husband and wife who deer hunt together, stay together.
I met Jason and Fran one morning in the spring of 2011. I was out running my beloved Juno–my third Brittany. Jason and Fran were out running their young dog, Nos, and we struck up a conversation. We made a good impression on one another and exchanged telephone numbers with the understanding that we would take our dogs hunting together when the fall seasons opened. It was a stroke of good fortune that we met and became friends and hunting buddies. Ours is a happy and productive friendship and hunting partnership. We share many hunting adventures, the joys and sorrows of life, including the untimely death of my beloved Juno in the summer of 2012. Nos and Juno had only one hunting season before she was felled by cancer at four years old. I remember in the aftermath of losing Juno getting out with Jason and Nos for a boat ride on the Tay River. Nos noticed my demeanour that I was grief-stricken, and he sat in front of me and gently licked my face.
Jason, Fran and their daughter Rose in 2014.
I remember the joy of Rose’s arrival, Jason and Fran’s daughter’s birth in the summer of 2014. While Jason was with Fran at the hospital for the delivery, I took Nos for his daily runs. Poor Nos did not want to get out of my vehicle when I brought him home to the empty house. When Jason and Fran brought Rose home, Nos took to her right away. He growled at Jason once when Jason pretended to menace Rose. Nos looked out for the womenfolk in his family. Rose is six years old now, and Nos’s passing is her first experience with losing a family dog. It is one of the hard lessons of life. I sympathize with her. I was eight years old when my mother greeted me with the news that our pet Siamese cat Lisa had died. It was a devastating loss.
Nos on a hunt at the farm.
Nos excelled as a retriever for Jason, Fran and I in the goose field. He was an asset in deer season as we put him to work tracking downed deer as needed. I remember the nine-point buck I shot and wounded in the last half hour of shooting time and followed in the dark. I caught up with the wounded buck and humanely despatched him. As a novice deer hunter, it had not occurred to me to bring marking tape. I found my way out of the woods but had no idea how to get back to the downed buck. I needed help to drag him out. Jason brought Nos out, and we succeeded in retrieving the buck before coyotes got to him.
Jason poses with Hera and Nos on the farm.
Coyotes are a threat to our dogs in the city’s parkland, where we take them for daily runs. After a fright when Hera, one of my current Brittanies, and I had a run-in with a pack of coyotes, Jason allowed me to bring Nos on runs with Hera. Nos enjoyed it when I took on his daily run with Hera as he had snow pants on when out for these runs. Fran can explain the snow pants reference. Nos made the perfect bodyguard for Hera. Nos and Hera were the best of friends and hunted together in the uplands for grouse and woodcock. It will be difficult for Jason and me to take to the field this season without Nos, but we will remember all the good days afield we had and keep him in our memories for as long as we live. Run free Nos with Juno wherever it is hunting dogs go after death. We will love you forever.
A mixed bag of mallards, wood ducks and a Canada goose taken on a morning hunt on the Castor River.
“All that glisters is not gold,” William Shakespeare got that right when he coined this adage. I recalled this adage this week after a duck hunt on the Castor River. In seasons past, the stretch of the Castor River that runs through a farm outside Russell, Ontario was a honey hole for my duck hunting buddies and me. Seasons ago we had exciting puddle duck hunting. We shot Canada geese on the river too. Occasionally, passing flocks of Canada geese or singles offered passing shots. We had great roost shoots back in the day when Canada geese used the river to roost. Mallards and wood ducks were the most common species of wild duck we shot on the river–though once I bagged a hooded merganser. In more recent seasons, ducks are few and far between. For whatever reason, ducks are not using this stretch of the Castor River. Neither are Canada geese roosting on the river. Imagine my surprise and delight when I drove out to the farm to take a look at the river and found wood ducks and Canada geese sitting on the water. A mallard drake flew along the river, well within shotgun range. “Could it be,” I thought, “that the river is attracting waterfowl again?” Continue reading →
Hera and me after a morning hunt on the Ides of October.
What a difference a day makes. Yesterday, I got home from a disappointing morning hunting Hera and felt my enthusiasm for going out the next day evaporate. She pointed woodcock and jumped the gun yet again. I planned on going duck hunting with my hunting buddy Omer, but the threat of inclement weather made him lose interest and he cancelled. My hunting buddy Jason wanted to go out to the farm near Spencerville the next day to add more corn to the bait piles in anticipation of deer season next month and I agreed to accompany him. I suggested we bring our dogs and take them upland gunning before we tended to the bait piles. I wanted to see if there was any change in Hera, whether she would remain staunch on point this time. Jason accepted my suggestion even though the weather forecast called for high winds and light rain. Jason is off to moose camp next weekend and this is our last chance to tend the bait piles before the opening of deer season. I met Jason at his house at 8:00 AM on the Ides of October and off we went to see what fortune would bring.
Jason posing with a grouse he took on our morning hunt with Hera and Nos.
Got out today for an upland hunt with my friend Jason for the first time since his daughter Rose was born three years ago. I find my hunting buddies often have far less time for hunting once they become family men so it was great to get back in the field with Jason. I asked Jason the evening before if he would join me on a hunt for grouse and woodcock at the farm near Spencerville. He told me he had to be back by 1:00 pm as his wife Fran had plans. I reminded him that the it generally takes about two hours to sweep the grouse and woodcock cover on the farm so if we were in the field by 8:00 am we should have ample time for a morning hunt and get back to Ottawa in time. It is about an hour’s drive from Ottawa to the farm. Jason agreed to the plan and added that he wanted to bring the sacks of corn and mineral salt blocks along to set out by our deer stands and scout out a new location for his wife Fran’s ladder stand. We hunt deer on the farm during rifle season in November. This meant taking out his ATV so we could carry the sacks of corn and mineral salt blocks back into where our ladder stands are located. It was an ambitious agenda, but feasible if we timed it right. Continue reading →
My first white-tailed buck, a nine point, taken on opening afternoon of the 2016 rifle season in Eastern Ontario.
I never fully appreciated big game hunting until I shot my first white-tailed buck yesterday afternoon on the opening day of the 2016 rifle season here in Eastern Ontario. I took up big game hunting in earnest in 2011 under the tutelage of my good friend and hunting buddy Jason Quinn. Jay is an accomplished big game hunter with a lifetime of experience in the pursuit of white-tailed deer, moose and black bear. Under his guidance I shot my first white-tailed deer, a doe, in the 2012 rifle season. While killing my first deer was a thrill in its own right, the hunt I experienced yesterday was the culmination of all that is good in hunting: notably the challenges, camaraderie , effort, joys, sorrows and sportsmanship associated with hunting. The buck, my first, was hunted down and killed in a fair chase. I felled it using my Browning X-Bolt Medallion bolt action rifle (left-hand) in 30-06 with a Winchester Super X 150 grain bullet. What this experience showed is I remain a novice deer hunter and with Jay as friend and mentor I am learning through trial and error.
“Curse you, Red Baron!” This is what Charlie Brown’s dog, Snoopy, said following a dogfight with the Red Baron. This though flashed through my mind this afternoon while out with Hera and Nos for a run. Hera is my three year old Brittany and Nos is my friend Jason’s six year old German Wirehaired Pointer. Jason, his wife Fran and their daughter Rose are away for the weekend and I am helping mind Nos in their absence. Both Hera and Nos are friendly, well-socialized dogs, though Nos, as an unfixed male, needs a firm hand at times to stay out of trouble. Don’t get me wrong, Nos does not look for trouble, but if another dog comes looking to make trouble, Nos does not back down. Hera is by far tougher than the three Brittanies I owned before her. That said, however, she backs down if another dog is looking for trouble. I hope most of the dogs we come across on our daily runs are friendly and well-socialized too, but you cannot count on this always being the case.
This afternoon the run went fine as we made our way along the familiar route. Jason and I run our dogs on a patch of parkland along the Rideau River in the south end of the city. Nos had fun playing ball and both dogs cooled off in the river. Toward the end of the run we made our way to the ruin of an old wharf where Nos likes to jump into the river after his ball. Unfortunately, there was a young couple there already with two dogs: one, a black and tan mixed breed, the other a Rottweiler. The black and tan mixed breed was not friendly and confronted Nos, growling and baring its teeth. Nos knows the route and got to the wharf ahead of me. When I arrived, the young man and woman had their hostile mixed breed under control, trying to calm it. I stepped in calmly and ordered Nos away from the scene. Hera bounded up, looking to meet the new dogs, but I ordered her away from the scene also. I was not taking any chances. To their credit, the young couple stayed calm, I think they know their dog has issues, and handled the situation commendably. It took them a few moments to get both their dogs on leash and head home with them. I smiled at them as they went on their way.
I was fortunate this time that a dog fight did not erupt and that the owners of the problem dog were reasonable people. The outcome of this scene might have been very ugly otherwise. This is one of the realities when you are a dog owner, whether your dog is a working gun dog like Hera and Nos, or a house pet. I hope my good fortune continues and I never have to deal with an all out dog fight and dog owners with a disposition worse than their dog’s.
I got out this morning, the eve of duck season 2014, for an upland hunt with my hunting buddy Jason. We brought our dogs–Hera, my Brittany and Nos, Jason’s German Wirehaired Pointer. I picked up Jason and Nos at 7:00 AM and we were on our way to the Marlborough Forest, to a cover I call Lester’s Square. We arrived just before 8:00 AM and noticed on the way in one of a group of hunters we see in the forest, notorious for shouting at their dogs. True to form, we heard him shouting at his dog as we got underway. It was unseasonably warm and mosquitoes were out in force. Thankfully, Jason brought insect repellant.
We walked a familiar trail and headed away from the hunter who was shouting at his dog in the distance. We heard three rapid gun shots a while later. He was likely firing in desperation. The cover is still very thick as the leaves are still on the trees. As we neared a deer stand, constructed of wood and burlap, a grouse flushed wildly. The dogs were hunting eagerly, but there were no points until about 40 minutes into the hunt. Hera tracked a running grouse and when it flushed, Jason dumped it cleanly with one shot as it broke the cover. Nos retrieved the downed bird: our first upland game bird in the bag this season.
We moved on to another patch of cover, a stand of birch, poplar and assorted shrubs, that usually holds woodcock and grouse. As I made my way through the right side of the cover, Nos got birdy and locked up on point. I walked up the point and a woodcock flushed. It headed in Jason’s direction and did not offer me much of a shot so I called out “cock up!” Jason fired both barrels and missed. We continued our sweep through the cover and a short time later Hera locked up on point. I asked Jason to walk up the point while I caught the action on camera. He quickly made his way to Hera and a woodcock flushed. He dumped it cleanly with his second barrel. Hera made the retrieve.
We walked to an old beaver pond at the end of the cover so the dogs could cool off in the water. The woodcock covers are fair to good this season. There is water in much of the cover and the ground is damp in most places. I think we can anticipate appreciable numbers of birds during the Autumn migration.
We walked on to an edge that often holds grouse and hares. There is a patch of wetland where I expect to find woodcock. I took Hera and walked through while Jason waited on the outer edge. Three grouse flushed wildly. Jason saw the second bird, but otherwise they were sight unseen. We were nearly 2 hours into the hunt and the temperature soared. We made our way back to the car, sweeping through a patch of cedar that is known to hold woodcock, but there were no more points of flushes. When we got back to the car we concluded the hunt. It was about 10:20 AM. In the two hours we were afield this morning we flushed 5 grouse and 2 woodcock. Both dogs pointed and retrieved downed birds. It was a great hunt this morning.
Hera is my fourth Brittany, so you think I would be seasoned enough in gun dog training to manage the embarrassing situation when she decides to disobey most spectacularly during a confrontation with non-hunters. My buddy Jason Quinn and his dog Nos joined me as I took Hera to the vet for her annual vaccinations and a heartworm test. Following the visit to the veterinary clinic, we made our way to some parkland along the Rideau River in the south part of Ottawa for our daily dog run. I have been running my gun dogs there since the 1990s and only on one other occasion had a confrontation with people who complained about my dog. I remember standing my ground on that occasion; it was with Maggie, my second Brittany. I told them, calmly, I would look after my dog, that they should just continue with their walk. When one of the persisted in berating me I shut him up telling him to “piss off.” He went on his way muttering insults. Today’s confrontation was far more dramatic. Continue reading →
Geoffrey's Hunting Diary 