Road Photo Friday: Now THAT'S a Dog Trailer

I snapped this a few weeks ago at a DIY car wash in Del Rio, Texas.  In case you don't have the patience to count, that's a 32-hole rig, folks.

We were going to stop to chat them up, but they were just pulling out as I snapped this.  I don't know if they were hauling bird dogs or hounds (Del Rio isn't known as a quail mecca, especially this year).  The dually that was dragging this monstrosity had Idaho plates.  Judging from the looks of the driver and passenger, they were houndsmen (let the hate mail begin).

Road Photo Friday: Eat Your Heart Out, Clark Griswold

Behold, faithful readers, the world's largest ball of sisal twine, located in Cawker City, Kansas, which is very close to nowhere.


Image of 2nd largest ball of twine

Road Photo Friday: Video Edition

What happens after a week of chasing Montana huns and you find yourself back at the motel, tired and slap happy? 

You try to chug a 24-ounce Budweiser, of course.

Road Photo Friday: Thanks, But I'll Pass.

As seen in a Belizean grocery store.

Road Photo Friday: Five Months 'Til Grouse Camp

Right now, northern Minnesota is transitioning from frozen wasteland season into swampy, bug-infested season.  But for a few weeks in mid-October, it's heaven on earth.  Most of the bugs and many of the leaves have died off, yet it's still warm enough that you can sit by the evening campfire in a fleece jacket, sipping whiskey and trading lies.

I snapped this photo at Dan's legendary cabin, where I've been going for what seems like an eternity.  Hunting season wouldn't be hunting season without a visit here every year.  I woke up thinking about grouse camp, so it only made sense to post this shot today.  I owe Dan a much longer essay (something he's pointed out repeatedly), but this'll have to do until then.

Here's to you, buddy.

Road Photo Friday: Snakebit

These three photos from my recent turkey hunting trip in the Lone Star State do well to sum up the experience.

This photo depicts the guajillo bush that was hit by my shotgun this morning.  The turkey standing in close proximity was not.

This photo is of the Mexican free-tailed bat that inexplicably ran into my hunting buddy's neck on Tuesday.  Mind you, this did not happen as we were walking to our stand in pre-dawn hours -- it was at 2 p.m.  The incident prompted another buddy to quip, "if you start growing fangs, we're shooting you."

Oh yeah, it was a hundred degrees.  The first week in April.

This final photo is of the five foot long western diamondback rattlesnake that decided to join us on our early morning turkey hunt Thursday morning.  Like within a foot.  We escaped, unscathed.  The snake did not.

Some trips are just that way, aren't they?

Road Photo Friday: World's First eCollar

I snapped this shot a couple of weeks ago at the National Bird Dog Museum a couple of weeks back, while visiting Grand Junction, Tennessee for the recently-concluded National Championship.  It reminds me of the old World War Two radios you'd see in black and white photos.  I bet that it used to shoc-- er, stimulate the hell out of dogs back in the day, don't you?

A cursory internet search (always reliable, of course!) doesn't offer much history on the collar.  It's pretty rough around the edges, I'll say that.  The Bill Boatman Company is a venerable dog supply company -- I can remember reading their photocopied mail-order catalog as a kid.  But I'm not certain if the company actually manufactured these units, or if they were simply a reseller.  Any ideas, anyone?

Road Photo Friday: The Season In Photos

Yeah, I know it's not Friday.  But this really isn't a photo, either.  Enjoy.

Road Photo Friday: Not Exactly A Trophy Room

I took this photo about five years ago, while bird hunting up on the Rosebud Indian Reservation in southern South Dakota.  It was kind of a jarring sight -- five really nice trophy heads, in various states of decomposition, sitting on top of a pickup truck in its own state of decomposition.  Off to the left of where this photo was taken, there was a four-foot pile of antlered skulls and sheds as well.

I'm not sure if there's a conclusion to draw here, other than the Lakota Sioux seem to have a very different philosophy on the value and display of a pair of deer antlers.

Road Photo Friday: Do Not Touch The Shuttlecock

I was looking for a fun photo to close out a week from hell, and here it is. You may recognize it as part of Shuttlecocks, a huge outdoor sculpture at Kansas City's Nelson Atkins Museum. By sheer coincidence, the four precariously balanced, 5500-pound pop-art icons are celebrating their 16th year in existence on this very day. Crafted by Claes Oldenburg and Coosje van Bruggen, they've become icons in the KC area and beyond.

These photos, I'll have you know, are a tad contraband. See, you're not supposed to touch these works of art -- let alone allow your kids to climb on them. We didn't know that at the time, and shortly after our little photo session began a voice boomed from speakers unknown, PLEASE STEP AWAY FROM THE SHUTTLECOCK. Befuddled, we collected the kids and walked back to our car. Looking over my shoulder, some security guard was hurriedly walking towards us, but we didn't wait around to talk to him.

Happy weekend, everyone.

Road Photo Friday: Drive South

Gratuitous Puppy Photo.

All is well.  The Ram is pointed towards the equator, XM's Outlaw Country is churning out some classic Son Volt, and the beautiful Flint Hills are passing by at a brisk 75mph.

Wes and I got a jumpstart on a bachelor party weekend this morning and visited Skyview Setters outside of El Dorado, Kansas.  Some nice looking, nice running shaggies.

Now it's onto Oklahoma City, for some R&R by the pool, carousing in Bricktown this evening, and tomorrow night's Reckless Kelly show at the Wormy Dog.

Bird dogs, beer, and bands... I think I could get used to this.

Road Photo Friday: Nogal Peak and White Sands

The Scampwalker clan -- including the three pooches -- made the 14-hour trek to New Mexico for a week of fun with family. It was a terrific trip to the Land of Enchantment, and one that included plenty of time in the great outdoors.

An impromptu hike led us to the top of Nogal Peak, one of the higher points in south central New Mexico.

The views were stunning from 10,000 feet, and well worth the steep climb. And the photos really don't do it justice.  That's Mrs. Scampwalker and her dad admiring the view several hundred feet below us.

We weren't the only folks on Nogal Peak enjoying the view. My father-in-law pointed out the masses of ladybugs congregating on this unknown plant.

That evening, we visited White Sands National Monument. It's about the most appropriately-named place on earth -- 275 square miles of pure, white gypsum sand dunes.

Winds move the dunes more than 30 feet a year. But a few plants, like soaptree yucca, manage to survive by growing a foot a year, just to keep its flowers and leaves above the sand. Many plants grow 30 feet tall or more -- but you'd never know it, most has been claimed by the shifting sand.

Of course, White Sands is also home to an active missile testing range. And then there's the Trinity Site, where they detonated the first atomic bomb and changed the course of human history. Quiet nature and beauty, juxtaposed with manmade power and fury -- but equally desolate in both ways.

But enough of the waxing philosophic. The kids were there to sled the dunes -- some probably close to 40 feet tall. My son knows no fear.

During the summer months, the park is open late on full moon nights. You can easily see several hundred yards with nothing more than the glow of the moon. Surreal, to say the least.

Road Photo Friday: Awesomest. Shower. Ever.

After an aborted fishing trip in the Gulf of Mexico courtesy of Hurricane Alex, nothing feels better than a good hot shower.  All that sticky, salty, sand-filled air-and-water-mix that's blowing in your face at 40-plus mile-per-hour leaves you feeling pretty road hard and put away wet.

The folks at Galveston's Hotel Galvez understand that.  In addition to the traditional fully adjustable wall-mounted showerhead, there's a second pizza-sized sprinkler placed in the middle of the stall's ceiling.

The result is full frontal hot-water bliss.  Why don't more places do this?  And why the hell didn't I build one into my shower stall when I redid it a couple years back?

Road Photo Friday: Arizona Mearns Quail, A Photo Essay

One could make a convincing argument that Mearns quail are nicknamed "Fool's Quail" for a number of good reasons. One glance at these little birds explains at least part of the moniker. They look like they were cobbled together by God's Spare Parts Department -- particularly the cockbirds. A ruddy, toupee-looking crest, a stubby beak, a polka-dotted breast, and a sawed-off tail. Yet without a doubt, the birds are some of the most beautiful birds an upland hunter can hope to pursue.

Their uniqueness extends to their feet -- long toes and toenails further distinguish this bird from his other quail cousins. The funky-looking appendages are perfectly suited though for the Mearns' primary means of eating -- digging at small roots and tubers found just below the surface of the arid, scrub oak dotted hills that they inhabit.

The birds are best found at 5,000 feet (give or take) above sea level. They can be found in feeder canyons, feeding and loafing in grassy meadows. The scenery is beautiful, and much of it is spent walking up-and-down, or at least traversing loose rock hillsides.

Those lacking healthy hearts or good boot leather need not apply.

We hunted public lands within a mile or so of the Mexican border, and saw numerous instances of illegal border crossings and makeshift camps. Water jugs, empty backpacks, tin cans, and small campfires dotted the landscape wherever we went.  Border Patrol jeeps, planes, and helicopters showed themselves from time to time, on a far more important hunt of their own. I never felt in danger, but I did feel on more than one occasion like I was being watched... friend or foe I'm not certain.

Jim's string of shorthairs were Mearns marvels. They'd lock on point, and relocate as the covey moved, never bumping a bird. Once the dogs corner them, the guns move in. These quail hold tightly -- so much so that you'd think you were chasing preserve birds.

On a Mearns rise, I quickly learned that two shots are too many, but three shots are never enough. Invariably, I'd unload my gun on the one or two initial birds to take wing, only to have an unloaded gun when the larger covey flushed, right at my feet.

Fool's Quail indeed.

Road Photo Friday: Ride 'Em Cowboy

Taken several years ago in western Kansas.  Anyone else have a devil-may-care hunting buddy like this? (Who shall remain nameless)

Road Photo Friday: "¿Camarones, Señores?"

I just returned to rainy Kansas from a nice day or two off the coast of Galveston, Texas fishing for red snapper.  We caught a ton of them -- they weren't in season, but the 20 pound brutes were still a ton of fun to haul in.

The trip reminded me of the photo above, which I took a couple of summers ago while fishing about 20 miles off the coast of Port Mansfield.  We were on our way back into port after a successful outing when our captain abruptly changed course towards an anchored shrimp boat.

We idled up to the Michael S. and our guide shouted, "Camarones, senores?"  The Mexican shrimping crew threw us a rope, we tied off, and the exchange began.  Our captain pulled a case of Bud Light out of the cooler, and handed it to the Mexican mate.  In return, we received a garbage bag full of freshly caught shrimp -- probably 15 pounds worth.  Not a bad trade at all.

That night we feasted on a lowcountry boil and washed it down with Shiner Bock (we saved the good stuff for us) while we watched the sun set on the Laguna Madre.

Road Photo Friday: Pool Rules

Mrs. Scampwalker actually pointed out this sign to me, which was taken at our hotel in Abilene, Texas about a month ago on our trip to pick up LuLu.  An unapologetic West Texas native, she made the following observation:  "You know you're in West Texas when the signs have to spell out that chewing tobacco and spit cups in a pool are forbidden."

Truer words are seldom spoken!  Have a great weekend, everone.

Road Photo Friday: Milkweed Bugs

This somewhat bizzare photo was taken after one of my kids pointed it out to me during a dove hunt last fall.  Since spring is finally springing around here, it seemed appropriate to include it this week.

The plant is known as milkweed, a fairly common species throughout the United States.  What I'd never seen before however were the colony of bugs glomming onto this particular milkweed pod.  Thinking it'd make for a nice image, I snapped a photo, and promptly forgot about it until recently.

Turns out, after a bit of armchair research, those bugs are milkweed bugs.  They're one of the few critters that enjoy the taste of sticky, sappy, milkweed goo.  And, as the old adage goes, you are what you eat -- the bugs reflect the taste of milkweed (ever wonder who tests these things?).  Anyhow, their bright orange and black coloring warns potential predators that they're not fit for a meal.

Road Photo Friday, and a Haiku...

Oh sweet mudflap girl

Chrome beauty, trailer idol

Deliver us home.

Road Photo Friday: Do Not Move

This photo was taken last fall in Stanford, Montana... and there quite possibly is only one other person in the world who will find it as funny as I do.  I snapped the shot after a long day of hunting huns with Jon, my buddy from Four Seasons of Bird Hunting.  It had been a long day -- and a long week, in all honesty -- and that strange box with the foreboding DO NOT MOVE label struck us as hilarious.  Why was it there?  What was in it?  And why was its owner so dead-set against its transport?

As any hunter will attest, it's these stupid little things that tend to spawn stupid big conversations when you've spent lengths of time on the road. We'd toss back some beers that evening, sneak to the house under the cover of darkness, and move the box six inches... across the yard... on the roof?  Or we'd stuff it full of raccoons.  Of course, none of that ever happened.  But it sure was funny at the time.

Looking at it now still cracks me up... to say nothing of the two satellite dishes bolted on a purple single-wide with a "Seasons Greetings" sign proudly hanging up in early October.  Something tells me they weren't trying to get a jump on Christmas 2009.