Читать книгу Never Cry Halibut. and Other Alaska Hunting and Fishing Tales онлайн

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The three sisters are lucky to have parents who make sure they get plenty of time out in nature. One of my favorite things to do is walk in the woods or go fishing with them and see how excited they get. When their dad, Luke, decided to take Kiah, his eldest, sooty grouse hunting for the first time, I was lucky enough to be invited along. Most folks call these grouse “hooters,” after the males who perch high in conifer trees and hoot to establish territory and attract mates. Luke and Kiah, with me and Dad tagging along, made an early season foray into the snowy mountains. Just the day before, there were a couple lovelorn fellows reciting their monosyllabic poetry in a winter storm, but on this day, the forest was quiet other than the wind, ravens, and a hairy woodpecker. On the last day of the season, Luke, Kiah, and I waded through brush toward a mountainside we hoped had a few birds. I’m pretty sure Luke and I were more excited than Kiah. Deer poop and tracks crisscrossed a muskeg. A network of game trails spread through a forest of towering Sitka spruce and western hemlock. Snowy mountain summits appeared through breaks in green foliage. Clumps of wolf hair hung in brush, and piles of bear scat lay at the edge of verdant avalanche paths. Soon the deep booming of grouse brought the forest even more to life. Luke began to get farther and farther ahead. Kiah didn’t stop or complain; she simply hiked faster. As she tunneled through a maze of devil’s club, she stared back with a confused look.