Bob Peters writes a short post.

B

Bob Peters

Well-known member
I shot two rounds of trap this morning. A trap field is close by even though I live in suburbia, got "grandfathered in" about 20 years ago.

After shooting I rushed off, eager to go fishing. Bird season done and gone, I need a shift of focus to wetting a line and reeling in fish. I caught a few trout, and then I hear a rooster cackle. Not a barnyard one liable to take a load of 6's from Goose's cousin, but the wild variety. I stare through the thickets but can't make him out. After I find a few more hungry trout, and have put all these thoughts of upland hunting behind me for good until next fall, another exclamation. The familiar Rrr-rrr Rr-rrr Rr-rrr of a rooster letting out evening vocalizations as the sun sags low to the treetops above the creek. It's about hopeless now. Pheasants and pheasant hunting on the brain 24/7 365. I don't think any therapist could straighten me out or cure me. And I don't even wanna try.
 
That was a short post, all things being relative. Fish are fun, typically pass the time adequately, & are sometimes super challenging (making them even more fun). But they don't look like a rooster, sound like a rooster, fly like a rooster, or (according to Ace) smell like a rooster. There's nothing that makes my blood boil like a rooster, & even when it boils in a bad way (like, heated by hatred), it makes me want to hunt pheasants, which turns it into the good kind of boil. They're sort of confusing birds.
 
There are 2 things I am hardwired for. One is chasing roosters. Grouse,Huns quail and waterfowl are fun, but not roosters they are a different level. The other is catching king salmon, especially in small streams with a fly rod, no other fishing comes close. Unfortunately that has to be pretty much past tense. Still can troll a couple up and there are a few hatchery kings to be caught with a fly rod but mostly gone. Roosters are where it’s at.
 
I can't stop looking at cover when driving around, even in low density pheasant country where I live. I know there can't be many, if any, pheasants in some of these patches of cattails, but I am always wondering if they're hiding out in them, enjoying the reduced pressure that a suburban (not the Gucci type) -- or exurban -- life affords them.
 
I had to click on a Bob tread with that title...and no BS, it was a short post! There is something special about hearing roosters crowing.

Funny, I too look at the cover whenever I am out driving and am thinking, "no, I would pass" or yep, "I would try that spot".

My pheasant attitude is about 180 degree from A5, I love the pheasants, I spend much of my time and money to hopefully help create more of them. I spend much more trying to create them than chasing them. I don't view them as just a natural resource that are just there and will always be there. I respect the ones I harvest and tip my hat to the ones that evade me. These pheasants do have a somewhat magical affect on people. If my wishes are followed my ashes will be spread over the habitat I have helped to create....maybe my ashes will be consumed by the birds and I will become a part of them....how corny is that? Read Bob's posts...like I said, magical.
 
Some great posts here and it reminded me of so many great times I have had with my sons and taking care of the wildlife. I can see my oldest son's first pheasant with his 20 gauge 1100 left hand. My youngest son received a Browning 20 gauge Micro for Christmas and to his disappointment it had a bad barrel. Had to make a trip back to Shooters in Hutchinson for a replacement. The Arkansas River was frozen except a few openings. A stop at the Police Station in Sterling led to permission on an open hole in the river. There my youngest shooting 3" steel from that little 20 gauge dropped a mallard drake with a high straight up shot on the passing duck. With that the games were on. My sons and their friends spent many weekends with me and some other fathers chasing birds. My wife complained once and my reply was, "You will have no doubt where we will be and what we will be doing." I never heard her complaining again. My sons helped me bring back the Ponderosa from a wildlife barren land to an awesome wildlife landscape. While building the bird numbers at the Ponderosa for 3 years, we travelled Kansas chasing birds. Later came deer hunting, Colorado elk hunting, Alaska king salmon and halibut fishing, and black bear hunting. Along the ways some awesome bird dogs. My ashes will be spread at the Ponderosa and I hope the Ponderosa will continue taking good care of the wildlife in my absence.
 
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