A few years ago, my younger brother Andy and I got permission to hike into the most phenomenal valley quail country that southern Idaho has to offer, a true quail Mecca. We had contacted the landowner numerous times to gain permission to access his land and finally he granted it with one caveat: We had to access his property from the adjacent BLM land to the north of his property, which meant a lengthy hike a few miles over some rugged country to reach his plum thicket-choked creek bottom surrounded by sagebrush-covered hills and draws. This is prime habitat that attracts valley quail from all over the area.
We parked the truck off the main road, gathered up our gear and dogs and started our trek to the promised land. Southern Idaho had been blanketed with snow the night before, which made the journey a little sketchy, but we were giddy with anticipation for what awaited on the other side. The dogs sensed our excitement as they coursed back and forth through the snow expending valuable energy.
We reached the landowner’s border fence with No Trespassing” loudly greeting us on his padlocked gate and his fence posts all glowing in fluorescent-orange spray paint. Andy and IJ helped the dogs through the fence one by one. My 5-year-old English setter Ginnygirl squatted to urinate, and I noticed the bright red frank blood in her urine.
Immediately, I began to wonder if Ginnygirl had a urinary bladder infection that I had failed to detect? Then my mind raced to worst-case scenarios: Could she have kidney or urinary bladder stones? Or, even worse, could Ginnygirl be experiencing rhabdomyolysis and subsequent myoglobinuria?
This story is from the Winter 2022 edition of The Upland Almanac.
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This story is from the Winter 2022 edition of The Upland Almanac.
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