The Eagle Outdoors

As I write this, the thermometer over the kitchen sink reads 41 degrees outside and a 'balmy' 53 inside this little house. Understandably, all three cats are sitting in front of the Quadrafire, waiting, and rather impatiently, for their human to get off his dead rump, get the coffee brewing, and build them a fire. I'll get right on that, felines.

Fall's here; the colors, the cool. Every day, I'm greeted to the sound of migrating Canada geese, the annual travelers having left their Alaskan birthplace headed to the Willamette Valley, the Klamath Basin, Humboldt County, and California's Central Valley. It's amazing to me to think of what these birds must see from on high. The coast, the interior rivers, green, not so green, farms, asphalt. At altitude, these geese – Cacklers, Aleutians, Lessers, Snows, and White-fronts – are immune to the human ridiculousness below. It's an enviable position they hold, at least for a time.

We're wrapping up the gardens now. Just yesterday, it was Anaheim chili peppers going into the Kerr and Ball jars. Today, Julie's working on the year's first batch of grape juice. Our grapes (this time) and they are soon to be jelly. There are still tomatoes to be done. Beets and carrots in the ground, awaiting that first frost. Apples on our place and across the street. Two days ago, it was 14 pints of homemade cranberry sauce made from Cranguyma berries purchased from a self-serve (honor box) beachwood shed off 113th and Sandridge.

I'm cleaning gutters and winterizing mowers, tillers, trimmers, Julie's '71 VW bus, and checking generators. Still, there's always time to watch Mother Nature change out of her summer garb and don her heavier fall wear. I highly recommend that; stop, watch, listen, and be amazed. She's pretty amazing.

A 'Fowl Talent

A friend of mine sent me a picture this morning of some work he's doing. Originally from Wisconsin, Bill Saunders now makes his home in Kennewick, as he's done for more than 30 years now. Saunders, if you ask him, is a walleye fishing fanatic (which he is); however, he's best known for making some of the finest duck and goose calls in the nation as part of his business, Bill Saunders Calls & Gear.

The picture Bill sent me this morning was of several examples of a limited edition goose call he's currently building. Based on his best-selling "Traffic" call, these particular pieces are crafted from ash burl, a wood he gets from a gentleman in Michigan. I found them beautiful works of art that I would be hesitant to take into the field and risk damaging. But why ash? "I've [been] working with a lot of different burls," he told me. "My favorite being maple, but ash sounds good. It's durable and super strong, and the properties lean toward that of acrylic, which is harder. Ash is just pretty."

He explained it's an involved process, pulling a finished call from a hunk of wood. The ash burl, he said, is cut to a workable size in Michigan. From there, it's sent to K & G Finishing in Arizona, where the wood is stabilized. Saunders told me if the wood is to be dyed, it's sent to another company prior to stabilization. Once stable, the ash pieces are sent to Kennewick, where Saunders grades each piece prior to them being sent out for computer numerical control (CNC) forming. The wood, now in the form of barrels (mouthpieces) and inserts, returns to Kennewick for finishing, which involves an oil bath, 24-hour wait, sanding (wait), wet-sanding with 1,500 to 2,000 grit (wait), 'Walrus Wax' coat (wait), and hand-tuning. All this is done before the calls are boxed and sent to hunters and/or collectors.

What is the price for all this work? It depends. Some of these limited ash burl calls will sell for $175 to $200; however, to a collector, a work such as this, should it feature an insert fashioned of discontinued materials, could fetch $1,000 or more.

For Saunders, calls like the ash burl "Traffic" are a business; but, more so, a labor of love. "I began my call business back in 1999," he said. "I started in high school shop class. All I did was make duck calls and baseball bats. Dad bought me an old lathe, probably from the 1950s, because I showed an interest. I use that same lathe damn near every day today."

To the high school students in Mr. Hurley's Ag-Mechanics class (which used to be called shop class) Saunders made a very lucrative business out of duck calls and ball bats made in shop class. Think about it.