A 20 gauge is more than enough gun for wild chukars; Weatherby's new autoloader weighs in at 51⁄2 pounds, making it highly managable in the rugged country the birds call home.

The SA-08 does have a fairly unique gas-operating system, however. It consists of two interchangable gas valve options, each designed to function with specific loads. A Light Loads valve handles loads up to 11⁄8 ounces, and a Heavy Loads valve is used for 11⁄4-ounce and heavier loads (up to 2 ounces in 12-gauge guns). The valves slide onto the magazine tube and fit up into the barrel guide, where they interact with the barrel's gas ports by bleeding off excess gas that is unnecessary for the action to function properly. This system allows for the use of a wide range of load types in one gun, which is something many autoloader designs struggle to do effectively.

There is much more to a shotgun than how it looks or how it functions, however. It must feel right when you shoulder, point and shoot it at flying game. One of the best places in the country to find out such things is northern Idaho.

If you've ever drifted down through the clouds on approach to Lewiston in December, you've noticed that snow-covered peaks taper off into plateaus sliced to the quick by breathtaking, ink-black canyons carved from the erosive power of Earth's cleansing currents. Concrete and man's quest to harness wild things has tempered these rivers but not killed them, and their struggle to role on is relentless. The Snake and the Clearwater are among the most notable in the region. They are easily seen as you crane your neck toward a misplaced window while you're confined to seat A-something on the jet.

Along their high-water lines, and that of the many tributaries that feed them, a rough and unforgiving landscape--one more vertical than horizontal--offers bountiful living for a variety of wildlife. Chukars are on that list.

Tim Curry's life is wingshooting and bird dogs, and I doubt there is another hunter who admires good chukar country any more than he does. So when we were taking a break to photograph rooster pheasants that had erupted from under the noses of his pointers earlier in the morning and Tim suggested that we work the rim of the canyon towering above us the following day for wild chukars, he caught my attention.

In spite of my chukared past, however, I knew that I had spent much too much time behind a desk all fall, and following the dogs and keeping up with my hunting partners would be difficult up in the rocks and snow. But I also knew good hunting for truly wild chukars doesn't come easy.

The following morning two dogs, Tim, I and two fellow hunters swept across the rugged canyon rim. We were all anxious to see how the new Weatherby shotguns would handle on the slippery slopes. As the morning progressed, Tim's dogs worked wonderfully, pointing several coveys of the red-footed runners. Some birds held for the dogs and others flushed far ahead, small specks hightailing it over rocks and snow. I was too slow or too high on the hill to get in on the shooting most times, but I did manage one bird from a covey Tim chased up the hill and flushed nearly directly over my head. I tumbled it on the last of three shots. "Make the third shot count," that's my moto.