The alarm sounded at four something this morning. I thought about hitting snooze in my zombie like state but then I remembered that today was a special day. Over the last couple of weeks I have been talking with a seasoned quail hunter about a trip to the oak covered hills of the extreme southern part of this state.

Mearn’s Quail are a unique species that, like the Coues Deer, are found no where else on earth. My hunting partner has pursued them for 16 years and is a wealth of knowledge on the tight holding birds and educated me on the way to the hunting grounds. His female Brittany “Scooter” is a polished dog who sat quietly in her crate. All business…

Chase however is a 15 month old wild-man and I decided to let him burn some steam off when we got a mile or two from the area we were to hunt. We pulled over and put the dogs out to stretch. The sun was just coming up and things felt right.

Back in the truck we slowly crawled over the last stretch of rocks and dirt. The dog thought this a fun game and worked out in front of us in high gear. After a mile or so of this we came to a water source and Chase broke right and under a fence. I whistled once at him from the truck, at the same time up came a swarm of Mearn’s in front of him. The truck lurched to a stop and we both jumped out in one motion. I called Chase back and got the gun put together and my vest on. My hunting partner unloaded his dog and the four of us hurried to the area where the birds had been.

Scent filled the dogs super noses instantly and we all moved in the direction the birds had gone. Up came a single bird which I dutifully missed twice in the excitement. We made a decision to leave the area and see if the birds would covey back up and calm down for a later hunt. Talk about excitement. Getting in the truck all I could think about was grey and black bombers busting out of the yellow knee high grass at mach speed.

The next push was beautiful but uneventful. This country is so different than the low desert i’ve been hunting.

We returned back hoping the birds had settled but never found them again. Such is hunting and its ok that way. Just seeing these rare birds is an accomplishment. They go in cycles, some years are great, others not so much. This is a down year, better than last I am told. Chase learned a lot today as did I, we’ll be back for round two.

The dog is fed… the 20 gauge over-under is clean and oiled… and lunch is packed.

Tomorrow were heading south, almost to the border, to chase these guys.

It’s another rough year for Mearn’s Quail from what we are hearing but we are not deterred. Can’t wait for what tomorrow will bring! Report to follow….

Its always a great honor when people show interest in your writing. A few months ago I was approached by the owner of The Back Country Journal to write something for his site. I put together a peice from a recent Coues Deer hunt and sent it over. This morning I was pleased to see it published! Head on over to read more here.

Part of the fun of fly fishing is tying flies to imitate what fish eat. I’ll be honest… I first got into fly tying to save money. Flies are not cheap and I was buying a lot of them. Now though, I tie because stores just don’t carry all of the patterns that really work and I also really enjoy it. I still buy flies occasionally but for the most part I tie my own. This is especially true for flies I use in lakes.

We have all stood at the shallow edge of a lake during the warmer months of summer. Usually, unless its really cold, you can observe lots of small bugs buzzing about just over the surface. These bugs are midges. Midges live in almost all of the fresh water on earth. If there is standing fresh water, there are probably midges in it. Trout eat them in all three stages of their life cycle, two of which occur under water. I’ve heard numbers starting at 50% all the way up to 80% referring to the the percentage that midges make up of a trouts diet in lakes. The percentage doesn’t matter, bottom line is that trout love them.

The muddy bottoms of lakes contain the first stage of the midge life cycle… Larvae. Midge larvae are often referred to as “bloodworms” for their red color. Here is a photo of an actual midge larva.

These are best imitated by long, slender flies with a shiny coating and some kind of segmentation. I tie mine in sizes 14-10.

Midges spend most of their lives as blood worms and this is by far my most effective lake pattern. Bloodworms live at or near the bottom so I suspend these flies just off the bottom. Fish go nuts on them from ice out to late fall. This Montana Rainbow thought it looked like food on a trip I took last Spring.

When the water warms in spring and the air temperature is warm enough for the adults to live, bloodworms transform into pupa. This is the second and shortest life cycle of a midge. The pupa grows small white gills near its head, is a dark or natural color, and traps a thin layer of gas around itself which aids in getting to the surface to hatch. They look like this.

On sunny days the bright light illuminates the pupa as it wriggles to the surface and its best to fish a very shiny pupa pattern. These flies are referred to as “chromies”. For me, the “copper chromie” has been one of the most effective. I tie mine with a red rib. I like sizes 12 and 14 best and use Mustad C49S hooks.

On cloudy days a more natural approach usually works better. My good friend Everet showed me these patterns. They work great in lower light conditions.
Olive:

Rusty Brown:

Another approach to imitating midge pupa comes from accross the pond. Europeans tie pupa with no bead at the hook eye. They call them “buzzers”. Some days these patterns work when nothing else will.

For me there is almost nothing better than watching a small floating indicator bouncing slightly in the water then suddenly tanking as a fish mistakes one of these flies for the real deal. A quick hook set is needed before the fish realizes it’s mistake. The sound of the fly line ripping up off the water on the hook set as it goes tight to a fish is sweet sweet music to a lake fisherman’s ears.

When you think of fishing in Utah the first thing that usually comes to mind is trout. Utah is home to some incredible trout fishing.. but an anomaly exists in the central part of the state. Yuba Reservoir is home to lots of carp, low water each year, big perch some years, milky brown colored water, and MONSTER Northern Pike. This story is an account of a a full season of fishing there and what happens when you put your time in.

In January of 2009 we were on the Ice at Yuba yanking foot long jumbo Perch for the fryer. Midway through the morning my best friend Scott hooked a big fish. After a long fight and many close looks we lost the fish at the hole. From then on we were Pike obsessed. When the ice left we hit the water hard. The early trips were far too cold for any real chance but we learned every nook and cranny of the reservoir. The early summer months passed with a few close calls, some broken lines from blistering runs, and a heartbreaking loss of a giant female right at the boat.

Fall came and I set up a trip to fish with Steve Henline who at the time lived in Northern Utah. Steve was the Pike man landing several big fish through 2008. We hit if off instantly on the one hour drive South. Steve told me of his fishing adventures around the world and how Zihuatanejo Mexico offers, as he put it, “the finest blue-water fishing for Tuna and Pez Vela (Sail Fish) in the world”. Its on my one day list. Everything felt good, just one of those days.

We launched the boat, glided up lake, and arrived at the small bay in no time. There I stood, in the front of the boat, rod in hand, my eighth trip to Yuba, still had not touched a fish. Fish of a thousand casts? Try double that. I made a cast parallel to shore along a sweeping gravel line. Halfway back to the boat the line stopped cold. I think I yelled, “fish on”, or something cheesy like that. After two big head shakes the fish turned on the burners and the reel protested loudly. Minutes later she came to the surface and churned gallons of water before taking off again. With shaking arms I somehow got her to the surface and Steve netted her.

We brought her in the boat and just sat there in awe for a few seconds.
Length: 41.75″
Girth: 17.5″
Weight: Just under 20 pounds!!

Pictures were taken quickly and then she was revived in the big live well. After she was swimming strongly again we put her back where she came from. No point killing a trophy like that. Steve and I have talked many times since then but we haven’t fished together since that September day. He now runs a guide service at Lake Powell. I hope to spend a day on the water there with him someday, it would be a pleasure to spend a day catching fish and reminiscing of that September day of the giant.

While I appreciate the trophy chasing shows as much as the next guy, its refreshing to see a show that goes back to the roots of why we do this. When my grandpa tells stories of deer hunting he talks about how good the animal was on the table. Properly processed game meat is tasty, healthy, and cheap.
 

Enter “The Meat Eater”. This show follows Steven Rinella as he hunts, processes, cooks, and eats delicious game meat.  Those that know me know I would rather eat elk burger spaghetti and grilled venison loin than almost any other meat.  Check out the site and if you have the sportsmans channel set your tube to record this great show.

The Meat Eater

Oh the challenge of the Gamble’s Quail.  The limit is 15 birds per day which is quite laughable.  The challenge is not seeing that many birds in a day.  Gamble’s are everywhere in the deserts around here.  The problem is that they run hard, flush wild and rarely hold.  These little running devils are brutal on both bird dog and hunter.  This morning my next door neighbor and I chased them around the winter desert.  Chase is my one year old Brittany.  He is a good pup, loves to run, and loves birds.

The three of us started out across the desert with high hopes.  We walked for about a mile before we started seeing this.

Not longer after the dog got very birdy.

Up came the covey and I pulled off a crossing shot and was rewarded with a young male bird.

The neighbor went on a hot streak after that and we both finished with a few birds and one bonus species.

We scratched out half a limit which will be enjoyed as delicious bacon wrapped appetizers. Tired feet, worn out dog, and guns to clean but no one was complaining today.

Before I moved to Arizona I spoke with lots of outdoorsman.  I knew that moving from the Wasatch Front in Northern Utah to the Sonoran Desert would be a big change.  It has been but there is give and take.  The fishing is not the same as i’m used to but the hunting is better.  I heard someone say this and it’s true, “we call it Game and Fish Department here because there is more game than fish.”

My friend Jack is one of the ones I spoke with before the move. I met him through my wifes family, he’s originally from Utah, and he’s a hunt-a-holic.  This is his first year archery hunting and although he had quite a few close calls with his Elk this last fall, he was yet to connect with an animal.  A couple weeks ago he called me and asked if I would help on an archery hunt for Javelina on Monday, January 2nd.  I had work off and was happy to help out.

Sunday night we put the little ones in bed, packed a few things, and were on the road.  It’s just over an hour from our homes here in the Valley of the Sun through the Mazatzal Wilderness to Payson Arizona.  We talked about the game-rich area we were to hunt and got excited on the drive up.  We met John who graciously let us stay in his camping trailer and fed us christmas-time venison tamales.  We stayed up late talking about the next morning then hit the pillows for a short five hours before the the alarm sounded.  ”You can sleep when you’re dead”, I thought as I wiped the heavy sleep from my eyes.

We drove a short distance on the highway before pulling off and unloading the Polaris Ranger that would take us to the pigs.  ”The Pocket”, as these two avid hunters have named our final destination, is a few series of draws and valleys at just the right elevation to hold deer and pigs.  The hills are covered in prickly pear cactus which Javelina find irresistible. Upon arriving we dropped John off on one end of the pocket and drove back to the other end so as to cover the whole area.  As we arrived at our destination we loaded our packs and started toward a high point to glass a hillside in the early morning light.  We made it no more than 20 yards when Jack noticed some dark shapes in the drainage below us.  A quick check with my 10 power binoculars revealed three adult Javelina and two piglets.  I could see the excitement in Jacks face and snapped a quick picture as he decided what to do next.

The pigs were only 200 yards away so Jack quickly put a stock on with the wind in his face. I glassed from the high point as he got into position. There were more than three pigs, I counted nine and they were all around him when he made it to them. I could tell he was getting lots of looks as they moved around him no more than 25 yards away. Finally, one of the pigs had had enough, it woofed loudly and started to trot off. Jack thought quickly, grabbed his Javelina-in-distress call from his pocket and shattered the silence of the morning with squeals that made my hair stand on end. All heck broke loose and the pigs ran in all directions trying to find the heard member in distress. A pair of adults trotted right in front of Jack. He woofed at them and one of them stopped and looked right at him as he drew the bow. He settled the 20 yard pin and punched the heart and one lung of the pig. The Javelina never took another step.

We spoke briefly on the radios and I made the short hike down to help with the processing. Although I had watched the hunt from a short distance away I got to hear Jack tell his side of things when I arrived. What a rush to be in the middle of a heard of animals and harvest one with a bow and arrow at a short distance. We took a few photos and went to find John.

When we got within radio range of John he announced that he was watching both Whitetail and Mule Deer bucks from about a half mile away. Jack has a 2012 archery deer tag that is open in that unit so we spent the next two hours closing the distance on four mule deer including one nice four-point. I spotted from one ridge while John spotted from another and Jack made a good stalk with the wind in his face. He got within 30 yards of the big boy but in the end the bushes obstructed his view of the deer and they busted out of the area before a good shot could be made. John called on the radio as the deer disappeared over the ridge and said, “you cant get em all”. He’s right and thats what makes it fun and keeps you going back.

All of us were tired at this point so we met back up and spent some down time glassing. We saw more deer and another small heard of pigs but nothing we could make a stalk work on. As the winter sun was getting low in the Western sky I snapped a photo of the pocket. It had been quite a day and I was happy to have spent it with good friends in a special place.

And so it begins.  I’m excited to bring a new creation to the world of outdoor writing.  For the past few years i’ve co written on www.ForTheRise.com.  Its been an amazing experience and i’m finally ready to step out on my own and do something new. Brad Carter encouraged me to join him on For The Rise and has helped me design this site.  I encourage you to check out his work here.  I look forward to the future and hope you join me here for all things outdoors.