Leucistic dusky grouse

The blue grouse I grew up with has fallen prey to the splitters (yes, yes, I've heard- DNA, distinct geographical populations, etc. etc.), and now is the dusky grouse.

Recently, A and I were up in the north central mountains of NM looking for edible mushrooms when we came across a leucistic grouse, of the now dusky variety, part of a family group or covey.

Ghost bird:

A normally colored member of the covey:

What a cool variation. I hope the white bird makes it through the season and is able to pass those genes along.

Bounty

Slow on blogging, but A and I have been getting out into the country a bit lately and I should try to catch up.

Firstly, a little while ago some friends tipped us off that the bolete mushrooms were flushing in Northern NM, so we headed up to our old stomping grounds for a quick overnighter in the back of the truck, hoping to replenish our supply. Success!

We found enough boletus barrowsii to fill our winter supply jar.

Soups, stews, and sauces will all benefit for the next year or so. We managed to dry a few more than fit in the jar, but didn't quite load up.

 Shortly thereafter, we made a day trip to our nearby mountains for elderberries, hitting it just a bit early. Nonetheless, we secured a good supply of this necessary component for a favorite jelly. We also found a couple of the largest examples of the cauliflower mushroom that we've yet come across. Sparassis radicata or Sparassis crispa, most sources relate that radicata is the western variant. Regardless, these were prime and delicious.

Our friend Jeff introduced us to a really nice technique for cauliflower mushroom, that being to saute it fairly slowly in butter until tender and then keep going until it browns a little and crisps up- an excellent side dish to almost anything, but particularly game meat.

Next, we went to our first organized mycological foray, this one by the NM Mycological Society- an interesting group of folks with a lot of expertise to share. This year's foray was based in Las Vegas, NM, and we stayed in the great old Plaza Hotel. A bit ragged around the edges after over a hundred years of operation, our room was quiet and very reasonably priced. Just around the town square we found a brew pub and a restaurant next door that served the hottest green chile I've had in a long time, some of the most typical northern New Mexican food we've found in years. Combined with lovely weather (cool and rainy) and some relatively new country to explore, it was a great weekend.

Last, for the Labor Day holiday weekend we headed back up north, to look for mushrooms again and perhaps take advantage of opening day of bird season. The first day was absolutely chilly at 9,000 feet of elevation, a welcome change after a long summer.

Since hunting didn't start until September 1st, we spent the first couple of days picking currants and mushrooms, checking out country and scouting around. Band Tailed Pigeons were loafing in some spruce and fir along one ridge each of those days, but strong winds apparently pushed them elsewhere once the season opened. Big birds, they'd come bombing out of the tops of the spruce on the steep hillside and, if we had gotten into them, the shooting would have been really tough. We also looked around for grouse, seeing them before the season but having no luck on opening day. Perhaps later in the year.

Mushrooming was more successful. The king boletes were pretty scarce, but we found nice stands of chanterelles, our first encounter with that prized edible in NM.

Back home, we tried a cream of mushroom soup as suggested by Hank Shaw. It was good, but we're still a bit ambiguous about the shrooms, not having found the best flavors to go with them and spoiled to the aforementioned king boletes and cauliflowers. Further experimentation is assured by several packages of chanterelles sauteed in butter and squirreled away in the freezer.

Also for later in the fall is the wild red currant jelly we put up from the prolific ribes encountered in the high country (A has keyed them out as ribes montigenum).

A couple of hours of picking (and pricking) resulted in a nice batch of currants.

Which in turn became a slightly tart jelly.

If our big game hunts go well, I foresee a Cumberland sauce in the future. Otherwise, it will just have to be buttermilk biscuits with red currant jelly.

Here's hoping the season is proceeding as well for all of you all!

beetles with taste

When A and I first arrived down in southern NM and got a house, we planted fruit trees right away. Even if you're not sure you'll be in a place long, if you get fruit trees in the ground you might get a crop before you know it and, in the Land of Entrapment, it's never wise to predict moving on. Consequently, we put in two cherries, an apricot, and a peach. One of the cherries and the apricot promptly died and the other cherry tree gave up last spring, but the dwarf peach has carried on and this year we've actually been getting a decent batch of peaches off of it.

Alas, despite netting to avoid the depredations of birds and red squirrels, we're still sharing way too much in the way of peach flesh.

The culprits?

Based upon one miscreant caught in the act from this picking, at least some of them are click beetles.

Regardless of the losses, we're pretty happy that our tree is producing in its fourth year. Not enough fruit to can or even freeze, but enough for sliced peaches in the morning or over homemade vanilla ice cream. Peaches, like tomatoes, are one of those fruits that are best ripened all the way on the vine and then eaten fresh. I don't think I've ever purchased a decent peach in a grocery store. Next year, if it looks like we'll get peaches again we'll look at some control so we don't have to share quite as much with them.

summer and bbq

Today dawned cool-ish, cloudy, and very humid with some puddles from an overnight shower. I'll take it as a good portent for the rest of the summer, as it always seems to me that the monsoon season should start around Independence Day if we are going to have a good one.

Chad Love recently posted about the drought continuing in his end of the near-Southwest. In contrast, southeast NM has the prospect of at least approaching "abnormally dry". After no precip for the first four and a half months of the year, we got a big storm in late May followed by some decent rain in June. If the afternoon thundershowers come through for the rest of July and into August, we might actually see some birds this year and the deer, elk, antelope, etc. that have made it this far might go into the winter in decent shape.

Many years we celebrated Independence Day by taking advantage of the opportunity to go up to a wine festival near Santa Fe which features New Mexico wines. That festival is a bit further down the road, so this year we contented ourselves with work, house work, and making another foray into cooking ribs.

This year it was back ribs. A little salt and pepper is all they got before going onto the barbecue, indirect heat only with smoke from oak splits, four and a half hours at around 200 F.
A cold beer and some light reading make tending the fire and the meat barely any work at all.

Meanwhile, sauce, this one a ketchup based recipe with lots of added acid and a fair bit of heat, along with diced onion and celery. I'd post the recipe, but it isn't mine to share.

For the last hour and a half or so, I wiped the meat with the sauce every ten to fifteen minutes to create a glazing. The sauce and glazing technique are both from A's father, who has been making fantastic ribs in a well seasoned  mushi kamado pot for decades. Lacking a ceramic pot steeped in years of smoke and vaporized meat essence, not to mention anything like the amount of practice, I didn't get to quite the same result. Nonetheless,

at the risk of bragging, they came out pretty well. The low heat kept the sauce from burning except on the very ends of the bones, where it formed little crunch bits of carcinogenic goodness, and the meat was nicely seasoned and glazed. Another hour on the heat would have been good, but the meat still falls of the bone. The layer of connective tissue on the inside of the ribs wasn't quite to the point that it completely falls apart, hence the call for an extra hour. All I needed was an earlier start, another couple of chapters to read, and another Shiner (or so).

In a completely uncompensated endorsement, if you can find it, I'd strongly recommend accompanying your summer grilled meats (or winter elk frites) with Korbel's "Rouge"

A medium-dry sparkling pinot noir/cabernet blend, this is a medium bodied red that goes well with well handled game, not so tannic that it overpowers the meat, but still handles the richness of barbecued ribs well. At +/- $12 a bottle, it isn't too much of an extravagance to go with a nice dinner.

interface, part 2

Last year we had cat and squirrel through the glass. Come the new year, the parties have stepped up their game a bit:

Getting up into the tree, the cat can't quite keep up with the tree rat.

So, he takes his metaphorical ball and goes home (look on the right side of the trunk, one cat-height above Tommy's back).

 Rematch?

Pollen

Ragweed, kochia, grass, creasote bush, or elm, all take second seat to juniper, which fills the eyes with tears and the air with sneezes come this time of year in the Southwest.

That isn't dust, it's pollen knocked loose by a thrown stone and a small portion of what that tree is producing right not. The occasional 70 degree day in February doesn't come without a price.

Another season gone

Last weekend marked the end of quail season here, which is pretty much all she wrote until spring turkey and then the long slow spell (hunting-wise) before dove and grouse in September.

We didn't take much advantage of our opportunities, work again interfering with life. This was a surprisingly decent quail year and, if it will just rain or snow a bit in the next couple of months and we get a normal monsoon in the summer, next year might be pretty good. That said, my folks and sister came out for an early 76th weekend for Dad and only bumped three coveys in two days and a whole lot of miles. The first of those was gratifyingly large, well over 20 birds, but took off down a thirty mile an hour tailwind and flew way, way out there. We pursued nonetheless but never found them.

The second day of our hunt, the weather went from 70 degrees with a thirty mile an hour wind to 28 degrees and overcast, all day long. One of the coveys we ran into flushed at 200 yards and flew another six, then flushed wild a second time and just about went out of sight. Late season, tough hunting.

A month ago, back around the end of duck season, A and I headed north up to our old stomping grounds on the Rio Bravo and got together with friend Matt for a weekend of duck hunting.  The first day didn't go real well, as we hadn't been out scouting. We found a spot in the dark where a half dozen mallards were roosting in a nook of the current, but ducks passing over once light came were few  and not interested in our spot. The flood last September took out a lot of  sediment and the river isn't as spread out as it has been in other years, making it a little harder to find a setup. Our second day, we had a much better place and had ducks trying to land as we were putting out the decoys.

It wasn't perfect, though, and several big bunches of mallards gave us hard looks and circled, but wouldn't commit. A pair of widgeon tried to land in the dekes- those we just flat missed. At the end of the day, we had a few birds and quite a bit of fun.

 So, now the big game proclamation is out and the deadline to apply for next fall's hunts is fast approaching. Time to sit down with a calendar, a map, and the odds from last year's draw to try to figure out how to get the best out of a little time afield and maybe put some meat in the freezer.

Are you gonna eat that?

Turkey vulture trying to face a ferruginous hawk off of his kill, just outside of town:

Not much more detail in the photo available, as this is a crop from a long shot. The birds were on private land, preventing a closer approach.
A's photo.

Happy New Year

A happy and prosperous 2014 to all y'all- tight lines, smooth swings, a favorable breeze, steady hold and a smooth release...

reference blogging

Chad Love on the lack of advocacy for grassland and prairie conservation. He makes the point that there is little public land for the public to access to develop an appreciation for the grasslands. I think he's on to something. I've written before on how a regular connection to a place encourages advocacy for its preservation. Western states that limit out-of-state licenses are making a mistake in some respects, in my opinion, by shutting out or limiting a national audience that cares about habitat, which is often on federal land. As Chad notes, there is precious little federal prairie for people to tramp about, hunt across, camp on, or care for in contrast to the millions of acres we can access further west.

New to this blog roll, and off Querencia, find Hits and Misses: "Hunting, fishing, cooking and other critical aspects of life". Gee, nothing simpatico there at all. In any event, check out Gerard Cox's reworking of a sporterized Lee Enfield in the style of a British sporting rifle. Neat work.

bird season

Last weekend was the first weekend of quail season in New Mexico. A and I got out and checked for a couple of coveys we'd seen earlier in the year. We didn't find those birds, but drove and walked and, eventually, put up 4 coveys. One of those was only a few birds and got a pass, but the others were decent coveys of a dozen or more.

We lost the better part of one covey after they flushed, then ran, peeling out of the group until you're left chasing 1 or 2 birds (a desert quail specialty). After that we swung  back through the area where they had first broken up hoping to find some singles or the rest of the covey. A pair got up and I dropped one a ways out. Booker had it marked and started a nice retrieve, then, on his way back, kicked up another couple of birds only ten yards away. Thinking we had a bird in hand, I shot one of those as well. Unfortunately, finding the bird is more fun than bringing it all the way back to hand, and Books dropped his bird to go find the new one. The bird dropped wasn't dead yet, and when we went to pick it up had left only a few saliva gummed feathers behind and was never to be found. Not a great performance in any aspect. On the other hand, it was the first day of the season.

Most interesting part of all this?

Blues and bobwhites, living together. Well, at least in proximity.



In celebration of running into some wild bobwhites, we fried our birds and ate them with cream gravy, rice, sauteed greens, black eyed peas and cornbread. 

Here's to hoping we can find a few more this weekend. While far from a good year for quail, at least there are a few birds out there.

In a decent quail year, if one was willing to drive a couple hundred miles in a day and had just a little bit of luck, I think you could manage a 4 species, all NM quail slam with bobwhites, blues, Gambel's, and Mearns. One of these days, I'd like to find out, just 'cause.

an answer from the 'net

A couple of years (well, apparently 4 years) ago, Booker and I came across an unusual duck and I speculated on these pages that it was a bird in eclipse plumage, or perhaps a hybrid. A number of folks commented and offered informed opinions or guesses as to what exactly we had, but no definitive answer was forthcoming.

Recently, flipping through some outdoor wish book or another, I became aware that Greenhead Gear™ is making a "hybrid  black duck decoy".

Looks just about the same to me:

Once again, the internet answers all questions (a Google Image Search for "hybrid black duck" further suggests that the bird we got was indeed just that).

Lobster risotto

This year turned out to be no great shakes for mushrooming in our part of the Southwest. The Pacific Northwest is having an epic year for mushrooms, and parts farther north of had a good year and did well, but we just didn't see much. We started off with some cauliflower mushrooms and some oysters, but the boletes never did appear, even after the big rain in September.

Some friends of ours were up in our old stomping grounds in north central NM (their old stomping grounds, too, as far as that goes) and found king boletes in September as well as what they were pretty sure were lobster mushrooms. Up north again soon after, they made a positive ID and found a few that were still good. From what they say, it was a really nice flush of lobsters, something we've never come across. J & T generously shared their haul, so we made a "lobster" risotto after slicing a couple up, sauteing them in butter, and just eating them.

The risotto-
5 c grouse stock
1 c white whine (can't manage white whine? any color or ethnic background whine will also work, just make sure it is at least off dry).
1 1/2 c arborio rice or other medium grain rice
1/3 c finely chopped white onion or shallot.
Olive oil
butter
grated parmesan
fresh Italian parsley
1 c (or more!) chopped lobster mushroom

A description of making risotto can be found here (not coincidentally, that risotto also featured gift fungus), so if you're not familiar with the process, you can read about it there.

We've had lobster mushrooms in a dish of rabbit in brown sauce at "Local 360" in Seattle, which was a wonderful dish. Without diminishing the accomplishments of that chef, I'm inclined to credit the mushrooms, as this risotto was most excellent, without any other special ingredients or technique. The mushroom is toothsome and manages to combine seafood notes with a bit of earthiness, far superior to the crustacean version in my mind and a lot less work.

Perhaps we'll get another big rain late in the season next year. If that happens, A and I are trekking up north to find us some dirt lobster.

big game

We just finished our first big game hunt of the year, a SE New Mexico pronghorn hunt. In "The Heart of the Game", Thomas McGuane opines that "Hunting in your own backyard becomes with time, if you love hunting, less and less expeditionary." I love that essay and have considered his idea carefully, but haven't found myself at that place yet. A and I set out with an ice chest with 60 pounds of ice, another small ice chest with drinks and lunch, and a couple of big empties for quarters should things work out. We also each had a rifle, and binos, and our hunting packs minus all the survival gear, for we were within eyesight (not that that means much in the west) of town, about a half hour from our house.Not quite expeditionary, but not exactly traveling light.

The country is grass flats and low ridges and mounds of greasewood and mesquite and there are quite a few antelope on our allotted area. Better still, we only had to share with one other hunter, whom we never saw.

The first day, we had a good stalk on a really nice buck who was busy confronting a little guy. We got to within two hundred yards before getting made and never quite got to where we could get a shot at him. Much later, we saw a nice buck and two does a half-mile out, angling along a low ridge and then over it. We drove ahead, parked, and then snuck up to that ridge ourselves, resulting in A collecting her first big game with a nice shot at the standing buck. Between A's aversion to having her photo appear and the work of trying to get some meat in the box, we didn't take any pictures.  Nonetheless, it was a good start to the year. A fair stalk and a good shot, taking him at 240 yards from shooting sticks followed by dressing and quartering on her own, with me holding the odd leg out of the way and offering too much advice.

Today, pressure off, we went  back out to see if I could fill my tag. A came to spot, carry, provide moral support, and took a few photos as well. The first stalk was good, getting us to within 200 yards or so of a buck who was a bit small, so we backed out, leaving him bedded with his harem of does, and drove and glassed until we found a bit heavier-headed fellow all by himself. A bit of a ridge provided cover to walk, then walk bent over, then crawl, then slither up until we had closed to about 250. The buck was bedded, so I eased into a sitting position, settled into the sling, then set the rifle across my lap and took up the glasses to wait.

A half hour later, he stood up, walked a little ways, stopped, and I shot him, a bit farther forward than I should have, breaking the shoulder as well as getting lung. Now we've got meat to cut and a couple of nice racks for the mantle.

A few images from the hunt:

Figuring out the first stalk:

and getting down to the low parts:

When you get low and slow, you can bump into all sorts of things:

If I were to caption that, it would be something like "oh, crap!" as Mr. Jackrabbit was frozen upon finding himself way too close to a predator, flight paralyzed by proximity and fight not really an option. On the other hand, this guy inspired a momentary "oh, crap!" from me,

until a second glance registered the narrow head and distinctive shovel nose of a hog- nosed snake. See the shovel snout?

The better to dig out frogs and toads with. Given that we were right on the edge of a prairie dog town, I was on pretty high alert for rattlers. Our walk up the hill became a crawl and, let me assure any readers that don't already know, forty-something knees do not like 80 yard crawls at all. Not one little bit.

Settled into the sling, waiting for the buck to get up:

and then the end of the hunt:

The rifle bears mention. First, it is a .243 Winchester Model 70 featherweight in the "classic" action. The re-construction of the justly vaunted pre-64 model 70, Dad bought this rifle when US Repeating Arms announced it was closing the New Haven plant and it looked like there wouldn't be any more Model 70's. Controlled round feed, big claw extractor, smooth as silk out of the box and with a trigger that, once the glue had been scraped off the adjustment screw to, you know, adjust it, breaks nicely at two pounds. It's been waiting for a hunt for a few years now and Dad brought it out for me to use on this one. It'll hold 100 grain Sierra boat tails in an inch at a hundred and a better pronghorn gun I can't really imagine.

Enough for now- we've got work to do.

Let's be careful out there

 If a picture is worth a thousand words, I figure this one has got at least a dozen expletives in it.

4 feet of Mr. Western Diamondback would like to remind you that it's still hot, and that he and his brethren are still active.


No snakes, photographers, or Chessies were harmed in the making of this photograph.