Other Priorities

Kids and Steelhead change priorities.

Growing up, ditch parrots were my driving passion.   Now, there's so little time and so many other responsibilities that it's tough to choose when steelhead are in the drivers seat.

This upland season I carried the scattergun on 2 days afield.  Almost embarrassing.

The first day was cold beyond cold.  So cold that I wiffed on two absolute gimmees, shots I've made in my sleep since I was 12.   Thankfully I found a willing pheasant to close the day to save some of my pride.   Miss the easy shots, smash the hard ones.  Go figure.

January 11th marked the final day of the season in the state of Washington, and we walked the familiar fields that we have for over 20 years.  The birds were scarce as they are at the end of the season, but for some reason luck was on my side

Wild roosters on the last day of the season are worth their weight in gold.  2 graced my game vest and I fell in love with these upland birds all over again

Priorities may change, but first loves are never forgotten.

Farm Relics....Land Boat Edition

Abandoned farms are fascinating to me.  Old building, gutted farmhouses, a million pieces of equipment .   Outbuilding after outbuilding and barns.   Oh yes, barns in all states of disrepair.  They speak to the shrinking of the farming class,  children moving away from a rural life and nobody's there to take over the farm when mom and dad get too old.

The land is leased to another farmer and is still in use.  Cattle still stare at you with a suspicious eye and pheasants sneak around just as always.  

This particular farm has my favorite relic.  It's a Chrysler, and she's a beaut.   The doors are open and inside is the June edition of some paper like the Western Stockman and cigarette butts are still in the tray.    My guess is this was a reward for the farmer who finally had some great years of wheat prices and it was his baby.  I can see the dust rolling down the dirt roads, rolling in style on the Palouse. Huge white cowboy hat and Marlboro lit up as Conway Twitty sang away

Today, the land yacht aint so pretty.  Mice call her home and the headliner is falling onto the seats. Still beautiful in a different way as a reminder of a generation gone and a family farmhouse never to be lived in again.

Nature is taking it all back, creating more cover to find a rooster hiding about.

There's a real beauty in ruins

A Cut Wheat Field....

You go through summer and after about the 15th 90 degree day it starts to feel like it's never going to end.  People bitch when it's not summer yet, and then the heat drives us to bitch that we've had too much of it.

In the peak of the dog days of summer, the first signal of the impending sweet spot of the year is a cut wheat field.  The green stalks of winter wheat have morphed to gold and the combines that roll up and down the rolling wheat fields of Eastern Washington  to me are better than any weather forecaster in predicting what's coming.

Steelhead are arriving in a trickle and hopefully soon in a flood.  The scent of pheasants, chuckar and quail will soon be in our dogs noises.  Bucks begin to shed their velvet.  A little football doesn't hurt either.

Yes, the cut wheat field is a beautiful sight around town and in the rolling hills of the Palouse.  It signals to me my favorite time of year.

Get our there and have some fun.