We brought Miller into our lives so that I could have a hunting companion. Also, for entertainment and general buddy for Ali and I. Unfortunately for the pup, part of his calling had to wait until after the floors were finished. Well, I finished the floors, and Miller got to go hunting.
Before I show you the floors, I’m going to brag about this pup. He’s about seven and a half months now, forty pounds of trouble. He’s not as shaggy as we hoped, he doesn’t like to swim, and he jumps up on the counters to steal food, drink coffee, and knock over his other favorite beverage, beer. Little punk that he is, we love him and his cuddling and grunting.
The situation to get him out and learning about how he pays for his keep came together with the ending of THE FLOOR project. We needed to be out of the house for a few days while a contractor sanded and finished the floor. Our constant and amazing savior Kelsey came to the rescue and offered us three a place to stay while this happened. I happened to have a day off during this time, which translates into five days off in my profession, so Alison and Kelsey would have to keep the house warm without us; Miller and I were going huntin’.
He did great! Out at the ranch, he retrieved his first duck. Hesitant, as though an invisible string were pulling him to me, he brought me a hen widgeon. It was absolutely amazing to see Miller, our tug-o-war master gently bring me a duck from the other side of a small pond. He’s money on tennis balls and sticks, but I figured he’d try to eat any birds I shot.
The next day found us further east and into a bird I’d never hunted before, Hungarian Partridge. As my new friend Matt Anderson’s father would say, it’s “Purty Country”.
We flushed quite a few birds, and Miller began to figure out what those good smells were, but my shooting was poor. We ended the day with one bird. Miller had another invisible string retrieve, not knowing why on earth he was giving me this delicious bird. I thought I should engrave the moment digitally, so gave him back the bird so I could snap a photo. Let’s just say it was a mistake. But it was still “Purty Country”.
That night I stayed with my aunt and uncle at their ranch, with the plan to really put Miller on some birds in the morning. We had a great evening of catching up and watching the National Finals Rodeo on TV. Uncle Steve told me where to go, and in the morning, we went. Right away we saw pheasants flushing in the distance. We took off after them in the stubble, trying to keep them upwind of the pup’s nose.
And soon, Miller, our bird dog, had his first, honest to goodness SOLID point. This is why I was willing to put up with coffee on my computer. Food stolen from the counter. Poop in friends living rooms. This, THIS was Miller’s calling. And it was perfect. I moved in to flush the pheasant, which was just three feet from his nose. Only, this pheasant had quills. If Miller had done anything other than point this porcupine, he’d have been in a world of hurt, and taken me for a panic stricken ride to the nearest vet. But he held his point, and I pulled him away quickly, saying “leave it”, just like we practiced a month ago with cookies. Leave cookies and porcupines alone.
We ended the hunt very successfully with Miller pointing some pheasants and me shooting some pheasants and another hungarian partridge.
It’s an unfortunate thing that a pheasant’s beauty is best observed dead, and in the hand. It’s hard to really grasp just how amazing the variety of colors and patterns of a bull pheasant’s feathers are unless it’s in your hand, not protesting. Sad, but true. And delicious.
I’d found out the night before that my grandma was in the hospital after a fall, so I cut our trip short a day and went to see her and my mom. Grandma seems to be healing nicely, and I’m sure she’ll be back on her feet, keeping herself in good shape in no time. Mom and I had a good visit and tour of her home county, visiting my grandpa at the cemetery, the ranch, and the site of Ali and I’s wedding next summer. Miller returned with me to Portland, tired and ready to be back in his house.
So… The floors. It’s taken me too long to install them. I was surprised how slowly I was able to make progress. I shouldn’t have though, because I selected each piece for each spot based on its grain orientation, color, pattern, size. I put over 8000 nails in the floor, 1000 plus of which I had to cut by hand. Probably a couple of gallons of glue were put on the bottom of the boards throughout the house. And they cover everything except the bathrooms. 
This is what we got. I wish I still had my other camera (stolen!) so that I could get a really wide view of the floors. Among my disappointments- 1) I cry everytime I hear something hard hit the floor 2) Alison insists we cover it with things like furniture 3) Photos don’t even come close to how beautiful they are. I’m stunned by how well they turned out. No boring quarter cut white oak for us, this is Douglas Fir salvaged from century old building beams, the bottom of the Nehalem River, or the dregs of logging operations. There are several colors that appear in parts of the boards. Knots, pitch pockets and beetle holes. I placed vertical grain in the areas of moisture and high traffic. Crazy purple, black, and tiger stripped boards in areas that wouldn’t be covered. I put a lot into this and I owe Alison a MASSIVE thankyou for her patience in letting me do this. I really took my sweet time, gaining skill along the way. And we came away with something I think we’re both really proud of. Miller even likes it.
Now we’ve got to finish up with the fireplace, trim, put up new doors, build closets, remodel the bathrooms… And then hit the outside. But I think Miller and I can get out hunting a few more times while we do that. A few more photos of the floor. Come by if you’re local and get a real view if you can!





















































































