The first light of a California morning has a way of making the hills look bigger than they really are. The grass glows green from the winter rains, the sky is wide and clean, and somewhere up those rolling slopes chukar are already moving. Anyone who has hunted chukar knows the rule: they’re always higher than you are. We stepped out of the trucks just after sunrise, the kind of quiet morning where the air still feels cool and the dogs know exactly what the day holds. Shotguns were checked, vests zipped, and the dogs—tails already moving—paced circles in the grass waiting for the word to go. Ahead of us, the hills rolled down toward a small lake surrounded by open pasture and rolling ground. It looked like classic California upland country—green hills, open walking, and plenty of room for birds to run and run they would.
Climbing After Red Devils
Late season chukar hunting is a different kind of challenge. The birds have been chased for months and they’ve learned every trick the hills can offer. They run earlier, flush farther, and rarely give you the kind of easy opportunity hunters dream about. By the time we started pushing into the grass, everyone already knew the routine: take a few steps, stop to catch your breath, then keep climbing. The dogs moved ahead, working the wind. There were a few birds in the area that had been planted earlier in the season, but anyone who has chased chukar knows that once they spend a little time in the hills they start acting wild in a hurry. A few days dodging coyotes, hawks, and hunters will do that. By the time you find them, they’re running uphill and flushing hard like any mountain bird and these birds were no exception. They ran.
A Young Setter’s First Real Hunt
This hunt carried a little extra excitement because it was the first real outing for a young English setter. First hunts are always a gamble—sometimes the dog runs wild with excitement, sometimes they’re unsure of what’s happening. But every once in a while, everything just clicks. It didn’t take long. working the slope ahead of us, the setter suddenly slowed, head high in the wind. Her tail stiffened, body locked up, and she froze into that classic setter silhouette every upland hunter hopes to see. Point. No creeping. No hesitation. Just locked on. We moved up slowly, boots crunching in the dry grass. For a moment everything held still—the dog, the hunters, the hillside itself. Then the birds broke. Chukar exploded from the grass like a handful of rocks thrown into the air. A couple shots cracked across the hill and two birds folded cleanly. The setter never broke. Only after the shot did she move, marking the falls and charging forward with the kind of determination that makes you grin behind your shotgun.
Natural Instinct
Watching a young dog work its first birds is something special. Training can only do so much—at some point instinct takes over. The setter handled it like a veteran. She hunted with purpose, quartering the wind and slowing whenever scent hit her nose. When birds held tight, she pointed solid. When a bird went down, she marked it and brought it back with pride. Retrieve after retrieve came straight to hand, tail wagging the whole way. By midmorning it was clear this dog understood exactly what she was born to do.
Dogs Make the Hunt
Of course, she wasn’t the only dog working the hills that morning. A pair of experienced bird dogs—one a seasoned pointer and the other a gritty little upland veteran—covered ground alongside her, weaving through the grass and open hillsides. Good dogs make chukar hunting possible. Without them, you’d spend half the day walking past birds that simply run ahead unseen. With them, the hills start to reveal their secrets. Points came along fence lines, scattered patches of grass, and along the edges of the lake where birds had settled in. Every time the dogs locked up, the anticipation came back. That quiet moment before the flush never gets old.
The Hills Earn Every Bird
By the time the hunt wound down, the sun was climbing higher and the hills felt steeper than they had that morning. Boots were dusty, legs were tired, and the dogs were starting to slow. But the tailgate told the story. Birds laid out in a neat line. Dogs panting happily in the shade. Hunters leaning against trucks swapping stories about shots taken, birds missed, and the ones that got away. That’s chukar hunting. It’s not just about the birds—it’s about the climb, the dogs, and those moments when everything comes together on a hillside somewhere in California, and for one young English setter, it was the kind of first hunt that promises a lot of good seasons ahead.
https://www.tacklewarehouse.com/?from=rbbass
