09/10/2023
An excerpt from ‘Mountain Meditations’:
“I usually hunt a brace of dogs per session, with the rest of the pack off their paws in their crates resting for when they are called upon to enter the fray. This particular afternoon I had full sisters from different litters, Aera and Bianca of Ourano with me. These two females can hunt as hard as any male dog I have seen and known. Bianca being younger has been getting to grips with these sort of harsh mountains still. Aera is a seasoned veteran. It was hard going. Even my conditioned body took a beating this day, I remember it vividly. We stopped often along our journey to drink from the liquid staircase like waterfalls and creaks that litter the beautiful Barkly Wartrail mountains. We covered plenty of ground. More than I had initially planned on doing. But something kept telling me to keep going, teasing us along. So we did. And we were rewarded with something beautiful. Aera breasted a small shoulder rise on the massive peak we were ascending. It was around 50m from the top of the 2700m peak. She stayed there, not reporting back. I knew what that meant. I made my way up hurriedly but safely. I found her standing proud on a find. As I caught my breath to take it all in (and snap a photo or two as I usually do), the peace turned into pandemonium. There were screeching Greywing everywhere. I’ve never seen Greywing Francolin flush like this in so many different directions and from so many varied places. I was convinced it couldn’t be one covey because they were flushing from so far apart, and there were so many birds. I lost count at 38 birds, before I gathered myself to realise that I was actually hunting now and not guiding. It was chaos. Beautiful chaos. Birds were flying in every direction I looked; up, down, left, right, around the bend of the shoulder we were on, everywhere! But such is the beauty of loving this entire picture more than the mere trigger pulling moment. You get lost in it all. In the dog work, your surroundings, and of course, the majestic Greywing Francolin doing her thing too.
In what was well over 45 birds (I surmised) I took a moment to collect myself amidst the chaos. I love unpacking everything about a particular moment of action and of course ultimately the find. What was the wind like, how did the dogs work and find the birds, where did we find the birds, taking note of particular shrubs, grasses, and rock outcrops. Was there water around, and what time of day was it. The mountains are an extension of me at times. In these times in particular. In the least conceited sense, I know no one holds a candle to me or my dogs in these sorts of moments and our surroundings, no one loves it and lives it more than we do. And this is why I think I am able to make a living from this, because that love and passion translates into anything I do within these realms. I have no time for competition, for gossip, and hearsay lies, I only know this world with my dogs when we are in this mode and mindset. All of the mindless worlds chatter is drowned out by this enamouring quietude. You only hear your beating heart, the panting of a passing dog, and occasionally the kick of a small rock from your tired feet. It is medicinal.
The accompanying photo is from our descent down on this particular afternoon described above. We all needed a moment. Probably me more than the dogs. The iridescent light was meditative and restorative. Like plumes of ash shooting off a flickering camp fire in the still, pure afternoon dusk. There wasn’t a breath of wind. It was just us and these mountains. But it felt like we weren’t alone either. These mountains are very much alive. Alive with energy and a silent power. And it charges me.”
Always chasing the horizon,
Chris.
