The plains of south-central Idaho are largely open and untouched, so I was surprised to find a historical placard standing in the middle of the sagebrush sea. Shifting my Benelli Montefeltro to the crook of my arm, I read the sign that stated I was standing on the site of the original Oregon Trail, the 2,170-mile “road” that led settlers and trappers from Missouri to Oregon’s Willamette Valley. I looked left and right, wondering how many half-starved souls had rolled slowly across the empty spaces in search of fortune and a better life for their family, hoping to avoid winter storms, disease and wild animals as they made their way one step at a time toward Oregon.
There was little time to reflect on the hardy nature of our forebears, though. I was hunting Hungarian partridge and Tom Loy indicated to me that his Gordon setter Pete was on point over the next ridge.
“How far?” I asked.
“Not too far. About 700 yards.”
Tom wasn’t being sarcastic. In the mind of a big country Western bird hunter, anything under a half-mile is still considered relatively close. I’d seen Pete galloping across the vast open country a few minutes before, but he had topped the ridge and caught wind of a covey of birds.
We found Pete locked on point, his glossy black tail standing above the scattered sagebrush. It was hard to imagine that anything could survive in such desolate and unforgiving land, but the dog was telling us otherwise. In all the times I’d hunted with Pete I rarely knew him to be mistaken when it came to matters of birds. Tom drifted to the right of the bush where Pete stood on point, and I moved left.
The sage exploded in a rush of winds as the Huns took flight, cascading out over the plains as Tom and I shouldered our guns and began firing. I hit one but missed a second as the remaining Huns crossed a canyon and made good their escape, gliding into another patch of sage a quarter-mile away.
We picked up the birds and I dropped mine in my pack. It was barely 10 minutes into the hunt and we were less than a half-mile from the truck on public land and our bird vests were already growing heavy. As we crested the next hill, and Pete began slicing left and right through the sage in search of the next covey, I marveled at the seemingly endless expanse of public land all around us. There was not another bird hunter in sight.
Go West, Bird Hunter
I grew up in the Midwest, and for most of my youth the area where I lived was considered bird country. Back then Ohio had a fair quail population and it wasn’t unusual to kick up pheasants along fencerows in fresh-cut cornfields. There weren’t a lot of grouse around home, but you could expect to flush a few birds in the foothills of the Appalachians. There was also excellent bird hunting within a half-day’s drive in just about any direction. Minnesota, Wisconsin and Michigan all had good grouse and lots of public land on which to hunt them. Quail could be found in good numbers in places like Iowa and Kansas, and every kid who kicked briars in search of birds dreamed of one day making it as far as South Dakota where, we were told, there were pheasants in every field.
The eastern half of the United States still has birds, but we’ve suffered a substantial decline in numbers and even more in access to bird land. Deer leases have, in some places, transformed set-aside fields of prairie grass into rows of brassica and beets for whitetails. Birds began slowly declining in many areas, and several theories have been posed as to why the birds are disappearing. Some believe the loss of upland birds is a result of changing farming practices while others blame invasive plants that outcompete native grasses. The collapse of the fur market and the resulting increase in nest predators is also blamed. Some feel the primary cause of reduced bird numbers is unchecked urban sprawl.
All these factors likely play a role, but the truth is bird numbers are down. That’s not to say birds have been extirpated in the East—there’s still good hunting in several pockets and conservation groups like the Ruffed Grouse Society, Pheasants Forever and Quail Unlimited work tirelessly to preserve bird populations. South Dakota and Iowa still have good pheasant populations if you can find unpressured land, and Minnesota is still the grouse capital of the Lower 48. Nevertheless, birds face serious challenges in parts of the Midwest and New England.
What hunters are quickly learning, though, is that there is still phenomenal upland bird hunting in the western United States, and much of that bird hunting can be found on public land that isn’t pressured as much as many areas in the East. States like Wyoming, Montana, Idaho, Nevada and Oregon offer outstanding public-land hunting for a variety of upland birds, and those states are especially promising for hunters who are willing to hike. But be forewarned: Much of the West’s best bird hunting is still in rugged and remote areas that will test a hunter’s mettle every bit as much as big-game hunting.
The Western Bird Lineup
The West has a variety of introduced and native upland birds that can be hunted on public land. One of the most widespread and sought-after birds here is the Hungarian partridge (also known as the gray partridge) mentioned earlier. As the name suggests, these birds are not native to the United States. How and when they ended up here is something of a mystery, though. There are reports that these birds were imported in the late 1700s, but if this is accurate those birds did not survive to colonize the East Coast. There are other reports that they were released in the late 19th/early 20th century. We do know these birds, which were a popular upland species in their native Czech Republic and Hungary as well as Western Europe, were heavily imported in the early 1900s. It’s estimated that roughly 40,000 Huns were released in the States between 1908 and 1909.
Huns are beautiful birds with mottled gray breast feathers and contrasting chestnut markings on their breasts and wings and a tan mask. A large Hun measures just over a foot in length, and a well-fed bird may weigh three-quarters of a pound. They lay up to 22 eggs in a nest, which is among the most of any bird. Their high reproductive rate is essential to their survival. A 4-year-old Hungarian partridge is an old bird, as their life expectancy is less than half that.
The Hun is one of our “Western” birds that ranges the farthest east. You can find them in the Midwest in places like Iowa and Minnesota, but the largest populations of Huns on public land is likely farther west. Oregon, Idaho and Nevada are all Hun hot spots, and you can look for these birds on grassy hillsides, crop fields and sagebrush. In fact, the best areas to look for birds are the borders between cultivated fields and grass. But Huns can be anywhere, and that’s one thing that makes hunting them so challenging. You’ll likely have to walk a lot of public land to find good Hun hunting. The country is awfully big and the birds are small.
Like Huns, the chukar is a member of the partridge family that was also introduced as an upland game bird. Chukars originally came to America from (depending upon which source you believe) Nepal, Afghanistan or Pakistan, and it’s possible that populations of birds from all three countries intermingled in the wide-open West.
Unlike Huns that seem to be perfectly happy in rolling country, chukars seem to be born to seek out the most steep, rugged terrain they can find. I’ve hunted a variety of big game in the western United States, and I’ll quickly tell you that an all-day chukar hunt in hot, steep snaky canyons is as physically and mentally tough as any other pursuit.
You don’t have to be a rock climber or ultra marathoner to hunt chukar, but it helps. Their propensity to hole up in the most hellish landscapes is probably the secret to the chukar’s success. They’re a true Western bird with viable wild populations that extend only as far east as Colorado, so if you want to hunt them check out Utah, Idaho, Nevada and Oregon.
I don’t know if birds can laugh at our misfortune, but if so there’s one chukar in southern Idaho’s Owyhee Mountains that’s still chuckling at me. We had just finished hunting (again with Tom Loy and his crack Gordons) and were unloading at the truck when I saw a single chukar sitting atop a boulder above our position. It wasn’t far—maybe 50 yards up the mountain—and I asked Tom what he thought about climbing up to kill it.
“Sure,” he said. “Go for it.”
It didn’t seem terribly sporting, but I grabbed my Fausti over/under and set out after the bird. When I was very close to shotgun range the bird simply dipped off the rock. I suspected it hadn’t gone far and climbed to its original position, awaiting a flush at any moment. I spotted it again, this time another 50 yards up the mountain. I climbed, the bird dropped off the rock and I hauled myself to the rock where it had been standing—only to see the chukar 50 yards higher up the hill.
What started as a fish-in-a-barrel scenario ended up with me soaked in sweat, covered in dust and thoroughly defeated back at the base of the mountain.
“I couldn’t catch him,” I said to Tom.
“Oh yeah?” I saw a smile curling up one side of his mouth as he watered one of his dogs from a plastic bottle. “Did you learn the first rule of chukar hunting?”
I looked at Tom, looked up at the mountain then back at him.
“Never chase chukars uphill?”
“Never, ever chase chukars uphill. You’ll lose that battle every time.”
As of this writing I have never chased another chucker uphill.
Chukar pick up in size where Huns leave off. A big bird will measure 13 to 15 inches long, and some of these birds will weigh a pound-and-a-half if they’ve been eating well. I believe you can hunt Huns with whatever gun you have, although lighter guns do make sense in the wide-open West. For chukars, though, I rule out anything over 6 pounds. Expect long shots, too. My preferred chukar gun offers a late-season pheasant payload with minimal mass. My Benelli Montefeltro has served me quite well hunting the “devil bird,” as these birds are called by some hunters (all of whom almost certainly chased one or more chukars uphill). But I’ve come to like Beretta’s new lightweight Ultraleggero 12-gauge over/under.
How do you know if you’re in chukar country? If everything in the landscape that isn’t straight up is straight down you’re probably in the right neighborhood. Start from the top if you can get there then hunt your way down, paying close attention to rock faces and ledges. In winter chukars will generally stay below snow line, so concentrate your efforts where dry ground and powder meet.
Though they’re primarily known as a Midwestern bird, ring-necked pheasant thrive in the western U.S. as well. On a bear hunt in Idaho I once sat on the edge of a wheat field that bordered a deep canyon. I didn’t see any bears, but I did watch rooster pheasants parading up and down the field edge and calling, and I’ve occasionally bumped the birds in other western states. There are few hunters who specifically target pheasants in the West, but the birds are taken by chance and make a nice—and colorful—addition to your game bag. One bird you almost certainly will not see by chance, though, is the Himalayan snowcock, another Asian import that lives high in Nevada’s Ruby Mountains. Hunting them is, I’ve been told, akin to chasing mountain goats. Most hunters who target these birds use spot-and-stalk tactics.
There are also several varieties of native game birds thriving across the West. Sage grouse are the largest member of the grouse family, and they are indeed big. A really long one will measure 30 inches and stand 2 feet tall, and since they weigh up to 7 pounds you don’t want a downed bird landing on your forehead. Sage grouse live in, well, sage, and while you may not hunt them in steep country like chukar you can expect to do some hiking. I walked 18 miles in two days before I killed my first sage grouse in Wyoming, and I missed the first bird to flush from that covey. I was ready to swear off sage grouse forever when another bird flushed from the same patch of sage where the first grouse had been (not an uncommon occurrence; these birds oftentimes flush one at a time from coveys). I hit the second bird and was shocked when a third sage grouse flushed as I collected the one I killed.
In addition to sage grouse there are greater and lesser prairie chickens, the former being restricted to relatively small areas of the country and protected. Greater prairie chickens can be found farther north in the eastern Rockies and northern plains in states like North Dakota where a hunter is also likely to kick up a few sharp-tailed grouse. Sharpies have a broad range that extends into the flat plains of eastern Montana and up into the farm fields of south-central Canada.
Smaller grouse species are abundant in the western mountains. Blue and spruce grouse inhabit the coniferous forests of the Northwest, and there are even a few white-tailed ptarmigan sprinkled along the spine of the Rockies at high elevation. Because they are generally quite abundant in these forests there’s a good chance a hunter will stumble upon these birds by simply bumping around the pine woods. Of all the Western birds (with the exception of the highly specialized Himalayan snowcock) these are probably the least likely to be hunted with dogs. It’s oftentimes simpler to still-hunt the birds along Forest Service roads. There are also a fair number of ruffed grouse in the western states, particularly in Idaho. I was chukar hunting in Hells Canyon along the Snake River and heard the distinct drumming of wings as a bird flushed almost directly behind me. I turned and was shocked to find it was a ruffed grouse, the only one of its species I’ve killed in the Rockies.
The West also offers a variety of quail species. The valley or California quail, with its distinctive topknot, is popular in states like Idaho, Oregon and Nevada while the similar-looking Gambel’s quail lives in the Southwest and is a popular game bird in Arizona. Also found in Arizona, New Mexico and into Texas is the scaled quail, which looks as though it’s covered in a chain mail and lives in coveys that may number 50 birds. The distinctive Mearns quail lives along the border with Mexico. The Mearns has distinctive black-and-white facial markings. I have only jumped one covey on a ranch in Sonora, Mexico, but they are a striking bird for the hunter willing to travel and find them.
If you’re keeping track of the list that’s more than a dozen species of game birds scattered across several states and a variety of habitats. There’s no need to tire of targeting a single species because it’s possible to find multiple varieties of game birds in the West—even on a single hunt. I was on one hunt in Idaho where we bagged chukar, Huns and valley quail in a single day. You don’t get that type of variety in most places. This is one of the things that makes Western bird hunting so special.
The Gear You Need
As stated earlier, I carry a light gun when I hunt the West, especially if I’m clambering in the mountains searching for chukar. My Montefeltro has served me well, but I have also come to love light 16-gauge guns with magnum loads. Browning’s Sweet Sixteen is right at home in the hinterlands and weighs well under 6 pounds. I killed my sage grouse with a Benelli Ethos 28-gauge, but if I were hunting those birds again I’d probably step up to something heavier. I like lightweight semi-autos, but light over/unders or even side-by-sides work well, too. Even a lightweight pump will do the trick.
Leave your heavy hunting clothes and boots behind, too. Most Western hunters wear light strap vests that carry all the gear you need and cut down on weight. Sturdy boots are an absolute must in steep, rocky chukar and Hun country, but I’d balance stability with weight and durability. I literally walked a pair of hunting boots to death on a single trip along the Snake River; by the time I reached the truck I had pried what was left of the flopping soles from my ragged boots and tossed them in the first dumpster I found.
Hunting Western birds requires some safety considerations. Carrying a GPS may save some trouble—or your life.
Hunting Western birds also requires some special safety considerations. On one hunt along Bruneau Canyon we were absolutely plagued by rattlesnakes and ran into three of them in the span of 15 minutes. It was enough to persuade us to turn tail and try a different spot before a hunter or dog got nailed. Speaking of dogs, keep a close eye on your four-legged companion. Make certain the dogs don’t run the pads of their feet raw on rocky ground. Bring along plenty of water for you and your pooch. In many areas of the West you’re hunting land with precious little surface water, and a dog can get dehydrated and sick in a hurry—especially if it isn’t accustomed to hunting in those rough conditions. Remember, too, that it’s easy to get lost in this big, beautiful country. Getting turned around in the mountainous pine woods of Washington or the rocky tributaries of the Snake River in Oregon can have dire consequences. I know one chukar hunter who broke his leg in the steep, slippery rocks of eastern Oregon far from his truck and even farther from help, and if it weren’t for his own immense fortitude (he crawled all the way to his vehicle) he might well have become a sad statistic. Having a GPS in the pocket of your vest may save some trouble—or your life.
Despite the challenges, the western United States is a wonderful destination for bird hunters. Millions of acres of public land with lots of birds and relatively few competing hunters means lots of opportunity. We may well be living in the heyday of Western bird hunting. With so much variety and so many miles of land open to hunt you should certainly make plans to go west. You won’t need to accumulate points or draw a tag, and you’ll find the land looks very much like it did when those first rickety wooden wagons hauled pioneers along the Oregon Trail. The West is waiting for you, bird hunter. Come prepared for some of the best hunting in the country.
Kirby Creek Experience
If you’re looking for an out-of-the-way bird hunting lodge with lots of land to hunt and virtually no pressure, set your sights on Idaho’s Kirby Creek Lodge. Accessible only by jet boat, the six-bedroom, 3,000-square-foot lodge rests on the banks of the Snake River at the base of Idaho’s Hells Canyon and offers some of the finest chukar hunting in the West. Best of all, your guides can ferry you from one bench to the next, which means you’ll hunt at low elevation with minimal climbing, a real rarity when chasing chukars.
Kirby Creek Lodge is owned by the Killgore Family of Idaho-based Killgore Adventures who provide the jet boat service required to reach the lodge. Since it sits on the only privately owned land on more than 30 miles of river, you’ll enjoy peace and solitude. After you bag a limit of birds for the day, you may take time to wet a line in the river and catch bass, salmon and even giant sturgeon. This one-of-a-kind bird-hunting lodge offers some amazing views and one of the greatest cast-and-blast adventures available anywhere in North America. killgoreadventures.com
