Shooting Times & Country Magazine
When a dog’s bark is music to the ears
Stalking the ancient forests of Finnish Lapland in search of capercaillie makes for a truly unforgettable hunting experience for Will O’meara
Now she asks the trees,” my guide Petri Kokkonen tells me. I smile and reply how poetic that sounds. Unintentional, perhaps, but it somehow captures the magic that is embedded in these seemingly enchanted forests. Ella the Finnish spitz has been silently hunting while we sit and wait, giving her space to work. Our ears pricked up to her rapid barking, the indication that she had located a capercaillie.
Petri can tell from the rate of her barking whether she has found a male or female capercaillie; for that dark silhouette of the male she cranks out close to 150 barks per minute.
The barking stops. I look to Petri; he is looking at his phone, which is tethered to Ella’s GPS tracking collar. “She is making a circle,” he explains. Ella circles the area in which she has treed the bird, in order to ensure that it does not relocate. It is a common tactic of the more wily birds to hop to an adjacent tree after being discovered by the dog. This makes locating them ever more difficult.
High alert
We wait in the silence of the pines with ears on high alert. A single bark, then another. “What does that bark mean, Petri?” “Now she asks the trees.” Ella barks at the trees where the scent is strongest, looking for some movement from the bird in response. Once she confirms the correct tree, the rapid barks echo once more to our eager ears. Petri smiles. “624m.”
We begin our careful approach, taking great care to glass as we go, remain concealed and as quiet as the lonely wilderness we stalk through. We look first for that distinctive tail of the barking dog. The spitz’s tail, I am told, acts like a mesmerising charm for the bird and as a telltale sign to guide the hunter to the correct tree.
We inch across the soft forest floor, eyes forward, ghost-stepping through the ancient carpet of flora, careful not to break a single twig that might betray our approach. Using the 10x magnification of my Steiner Rangers, I scan for the source of that bark.
Rev count
Like a little two-stroke engine, Ella’s rev count is rapid and steady. I can’t spot the dog due to the lie of the land, but I know we are close. I scan each tree, up and down. Jukka, my host, has warned me that these birds are masters of concealment and will use the trunk of the tree as cover.
They can also be quite aggressive towards the dog — he has witnessed birds excreting on the barking dog and even dropping twigs on them. One reason for Ella’s more rapid bark on the male capercaillie is that she was attacked by a large male bird last season. This tells me as much about this mysterious bird as it does about this fantastic dog.
I glimpse that bushy tail at the base of a Nordic pine; Ella is transfixed on the upper reaches of the tree. I glass intently but see nothing. I take a single step forward and glass again, craning to achieve a new angle on the pine. The laser rangefinder in my binoculars tells me we are 60m from the tree. I tune the focus wheel to the sharpest of images and scan from bottom to top, but still in vain. I shadow Petri, taking another slow-motion step forward, then we hear a change in tone — the bark raises an octave and we both see a glimpse of wings going away.
Back at the cabin, we discuss the tactics for the following day. High winds are forecast, which will make the task more difficult. Our first night under the Northern Lights is spent in awe of the show. We try to capture the scene by adjusting every parameter on the cameras, but even the finest technology cannot accurately capture the magic motion of the lights against the bright banner of starlight. I look up and see a shape in the lights, a shape of outspread wings. A sign of things to come? I decide it is.
The early morning wind cuts deep to my bones as we head for the
tree line. Ella is more relaxed today. Petri explains that each day she becomes better, sharper, more dialled in. We haven’t gone 20m into the tree line and it’s like a different world — the wind has all but vanished, the treetops being the only indicator of the gale. Petri smiles. “Not as bad as I thought,” he says. I nod in agreement, more out of hope than knowledge.
Ella is unleashed and heads east at speed. “We will give the dog space now,” Petri explains.
Barrage of barks
We stand in silence waiting for that bark. Every sound seems to be pure and true, but we want only one sound — that rapid bark. Jukka points out the beard-like growth from the branches around us. “This only grows in the purest air,” he explains. I marvel at the forest before me, but only for a moment — the bark has come. We all listen hard, hoping for that barrage of barks, and it comes forth like the sweetest music ever composed. Petri listens and turns to me: “Female bird.”
We wait to allow the situation to solidify. I know the routine now — bark, rapid barking, she makes a circle, she asks the trees, pinpoints the bird and then our work begins.
We stalk forward; the GPS tells us the dog is 52m ahead. I check the shotgun while Petri prepares the rifle. After a few steps forward, we kneel and scan with binos. I see the dog; Petri spots the bird. “Do you see her?” “Yes,” I whisper back. I am struck by the regal presence of the bird; it is clearly a grouse, but from my angle below, the head and beak have a purposefulness that is almost raptor-like.
Petri turns to me, clearly masking any movement from the bird. “Beretta or Sako?” he asks with a smile. “You will need to get much closer for the shotgun.” “Beretta it is, then,” I whisper. Petri smiles again and says: “I appreciate that.” I stalk forward, inching like a snake, chin on the mossy floor. I am aware that the bird has all the advantages of its ‘bird’s-eye view’. I survey the ground ahead and choose my line — not a direct route, but a dog-leg approach, making the most of deadfall birch and mossy mounds.
It takes some time to inch to the 90-degree turn, but once I am there I know it was the right path to choose. I line up two trees between the bird and myself, hoping to use their mass to conceal my slither closer. Ella’s barks will mask any noise from my careful stalk; I freeze any time the bark pauses. I edge right and range the tree: 28m. I slip back into my concealed path and inch forward — “no rush, be sneaky,” I tell myself.
I see that this is the spot. I edge into it. The bird is there; looking, scanning, she seems on edge.
I angle the Ultraleggero skywards, bead on the bird — she blends in so well. I raise my eye to check the sight picture — yes, that’s just about perfect.
“I see that this is the spot, I edge into it, the bird is there”
I breathe and treat the shot as if I were using a rifle. The tungsten shot strikes true and the bird drops to the forest floor, landing with a thud. Ella is in to make sure. I have only 20 steps to get there. I pick the bird and thank the dog. What a feeling. I turn to Petri and Jukka — hugs and back slaps are the only option.
Appreciation
As I admire the bird in my hand,
Jukka, with his hand on my shoulder, says: “You know, Will, that this is the Formula 1 of hunting.” Petri nods. “21m with the shotgun — I appreciate that,” he says. I am the one full of appreciation; for the bird, the hunt, the barking dog, the ancient forest, the friendships and guidance, the meal to come, the memories and the story to be told. A fire is lit on the spot. We eat lunch and drink tea, and plans are hatched to spend the remaining two days hunting for a male capercaillie.
Those two days are filled with storms, the magic of the barking dog, stalks through that pristine ancient forest and one sound, on the last hour of the last day, that echoes in my dreams — the thunderous sound of that monster capercaillie as he flies north to safety. His age and size are clear, even from the glimpse I get at 200m through the tangle of branches.
As he goes, I reflect in awe on the magic of this hunt, and I know for sure that I will be back.
To see what Petri offers at Onnela Wilderness Services, visit inarionnela.com and contact Petri to book your adventure at info@inarionnela.com