nstric
New member
Well, the '10-'11 pheasant season went out with a bang . . . 6 of them to be exact. What a day!
First field . . . 0 birds SEEN. It's not the best field, but I was hoping for a few hens. I'd seen partridge there earlier in the season too. Nothing today.
Second field . . . less than a quarter mile from the first. A slightly larger field with essentially the same cover. My buddy and I work the far east edge north, with plans to angle SE into the wind and one of two spots with foxtail. Within seconds of reaching the foxtail, both dogs go on point; I send my buddy in. Up come a good group of birds, most slightly out of range, and too many to count. We know at least 7 roosters flushed, one of which my buddy dropped and Gunner retrieved. We didn't get a count on the hens.
I decide to take Gunner to the road ditch where I saw one rooster go down. My buddy continues pushing the good foxtail south. Gunner has no interest, and quickly tries to get me back into the thicker grass. I resist, call him back, yet less than a minute passes before he urges me back to where we just came. This time I follow, but not fast enough. A rooster flushes outside of range. I'd bet money the very rooster that landed in the ditch circled back around us. Oh well. Good genes and whits to carry on.
Another minute passes, no more, and Gunner locks up. Collar beeping away. I step in, a tailfeather-less rooster flushes, and I drop him with one shot. He's an older bird that apparently had something nearly get him. No escape this time.
We decide to leave the remaining birds for next year, save for whatever the dogs pin down as we head for the truck. Both get birdy, and one more rooster flushes in front of my buddy. Another shot, and we've three in the bag. A great day, any day, let alone the last day of the season with temps nearly hitting 60 degrees.
Decision time now. Do we head home, after only 1 1/2 hours of hunting, or put some truck time in and make our way to another field we hadn't hunted since Opening Day? It doesn't take us long to choose the latter; we commit to the 2 hour truck drive.
Last field, one of my favorites, and one we just gained permission to this year via knocking-and-talking. Buffered draws, a creek that Ys, an adjacent hill with CRP, and cut corn surrounding all.
We start on the north edge, and push into what's now mostly a west wind. Right away both dogs are on birds. Gunner pointed 5 or so seperate hens in about 40 yards of buffer. Deacon (buddy's dog) pointed a couple too. A group flushed from the creek to the south of me -- only one rooster positively identified within. They fly south. I think the birds were loafing after eating in the cut corn.
Anyhow, we finish pushing this buffer west. A few more hens pointed. Now we cross the creek and push the CRP hillside. Gunner leads me about 1/3rd up the hill and locks up. I step in . . . nothing. Release him, he tracks, and points again. Same result; no bird, then release, and on Gunner's next point (we're now nearly to the top of the hill) I run ahead 10 yards or so. The willy rooster flushes and I drop him with a pretty long shot for me. #4 steel, improved cyclinder could just get there. Gunner retrieves the live bird back to me. Four in the bag.
We're now pushing the top of the hill east (cut corn to the south), and Gunner's collar goes off again. It hasn't been 3 minutes since I shot the last. I ask my buddy to walk in, he does, and up come one rooster and two hens. The rooster flies straight at me -- neither of us can therefore shoot -- until seeing me and angling to the east at which time my buddy drops him with one shot. Gunner again gladly retrieves to hand. Three shots and three bagged for my buddy. He was on his game today . . . I was very happy for him.
5 in the bag, and we're working back towards the truck. Another point down by the creek, this time both dogs, and up comes a rooster. My buddy decides not to pull the trigger as it's a longer shot. I see where he lands, but we elect to let him be and continue heading back.
Another Gunner point, maybe 20 yards away, and a hen comes up off of my buddy's boot.
Only 100 yards of buffer left and Gunner is working the creek's edge. He locks up, rock solid, but tongue hanging in recognition of the amazingly warm Iowa January day. Deacon cuts in front of me as I step in, and doesn't give any sign that a bird is there. I find exactly that -- the bird had run, and I give Gunner the okay to adjust. He does, working back from where we came, and just as he goes down a rooster comes up. I raise, squeeze, and drop our 6th rooster. Another long shot. I was lucky today.
We see Gunner hit the spot where the rooster dropped . . . then see the rooster flush and Gunner leap to grab him. He just missed and the old rooster was gone. I felt terrible; couldn't believe I'd lost a bird. That hasn't happened in a long time, and was particularly frustrating in this moment, given the last bird of the last day of season and so on.
Anyhow, Gunner isn't giving up. His methodical gate has now turned to a sprint. He's quartering all throughout the grass and bound and determined to find this bird. I just stand there and keep my mouth shut.
About a minute later Gunner does something I didn't expect. He changes course, swims the creek, climbs the bank, and is tearing around the cut corn field. I scan 100 yards or so ahead of him and SEE THE ROOSTER RUNNING to another buffer strip. I leap the bank, cross the creek, and find myself sprinting after Gunner who's now no doubt on the rooster's scent trail. He was literally running, full speed, the very route I saw the rooster run.
The rooster hits the heavy grass and I'm concerned. He could go anywhere now, all the while concealed from view.
Gunner enters about 5 seconds after him and is working back and forth amongst the thick cover. I get there after what seems too long, and while working to catch my breath, Gunner then locks up on point. I rush in, the rooster hops/flushes up, and Gunner and I both chase after. The rooster narrowly misses Gunner's jaws and I manage to dive on top of him. Number 6 officially in the bag, and let me tell you, he was well earned.
Again, what a day! Over 35 birds seen on the last day of the season . . . most of which provided for exceptional dog work. A two man limit was bagged, plenty of seed was intentionally left for the years to come, and we witnessed hens galore! Great memories made today; great memories.
First field . . . 0 birds SEEN. It's not the best field, but I was hoping for a few hens. I'd seen partridge there earlier in the season too. Nothing today.
Second field . . . less than a quarter mile from the first. A slightly larger field with essentially the same cover. My buddy and I work the far east edge north, with plans to angle SE into the wind and one of two spots with foxtail. Within seconds of reaching the foxtail, both dogs go on point; I send my buddy in. Up come a good group of birds, most slightly out of range, and too many to count. We know at least 7 roosters flushed, one of which my buddy dropped and Gunner retrieved. We didn't get a count on the hens.
I decide to take Gunner to the road ditch where I saw one rooster go down. My buddy continues pushing the good foxtail south. Gunner has no interest, and quickly tries to get me back into the thicker grass. I resist, call him back, yet less than a minute passes before he urges me back to where we just came. This time I follow, but not fast enough. A rooster flushes outside of range. I'd bet money the very rooster that landed in the ditch circled back around us. Oh well. Good genes and whits to carry on.
Another minute passes, no more, and Gunner locks up. Collar beeping away. I step in, a tailfeather-less rooster flushes, and I drop him with one shot. He's an older bird that apparently had something nearly get him. No escape this time.
We decide to leave the remaining birds for next year, save for whatever the dogs pin down as we head for the truck. Both get birdy, and one more rooster flushes in front of my buddy. Another shot, and we've three in the bag. A great day, any day, let alone the last day of the season with temps nearly hitting 60 degrees.
Decision time now. Do we head home, after only 1 1/2 hours of hunting, or put some truck time in and make our way to another field we hadn't hunted since Opening Day? It doesn't take us long to choose the latter; we commit to the 2 hour truck drive.
Last field, one of my favorites, and one we just gained permission to this year via knocking-and-talking. Buffered draws, a creek that Ys, an adjacent hill with CRP, and cut corn surrounding all.
We start on the north edge, and push into what's now mostly a west wind. Right away both dogs are on birds. Gunner pointed 5 or so seperate hens in about 40 yards of buffer. Deacon (buddy's dog) pointed a couple too. A group flushed from the creek to the south of me -- only one rooster positively identified within. They fly south. I think the birds were loafing after eating in the cut corn.
Anyhow, we finish pushing this buffer west. A few more hens pointed. Now we cross the creek and push the CRP hillside. Gunner leads me about 1/3rd up the hill and locks up. I step in . . . nothing. Release him, he tracks, and points again. Same result; no bird, then release, and on Gunner's next point (we're now nearly to the top of the hill) I run ahead 10 yards or so. The willy rooster flushes and I drop him with a pretty long shot for me. #4 steel, improved cyclinder could just get there. Gunner retrieves the live bird back to me. Four in the bag.
We're now pushing the top of the hill east (cut corn to the south), and Gunner's collar goes off again. It hasn't been 3 minutes since I shot the last. I ask my buddy to walk in, he does, and up come one rooster and two hens. The rooster flies straight at me -- neither of us can therefore shoot -- until seeing me and angling to the east at which time my buddy drops him with one shot. Gunner again gladly retrieves to hand. Three shots and three bagged for my buddy. He was on his game today . . . I was very happy for him.
5 in the bag, and we're working back towards the truck. Another point down by the creek, this time both dogs, and up comes a rooster. My buddy decides not to pull the trigger as it's a longer shot. I see where he lands, but we elect to let him be and continue heading back.
Another Gunner point, maybe 20 yards away, and a hen comes up off of my buddy's boot.
Only 100 yards of buffer left and Gunner is working the creek's edge. He locks up, rock solid, but tongue hanging in recognition of the amazingly warm Iowa January day. Deacon cuts in front of me as I step in, and doesn't give any sign that a bird is there. I find exactly that -- the bird had run, and I give Gunner the okay to adjust. He does, working back from where we came, and just as he goes down a rooster comes up. I raise, squeeze, and drop our 6th rooster. Another long shot. I was lucky today.
We see Gunner hit the spot where the rooster dropped . . . then see the rooster flush and Gunner leap to grab him. He just missed and the old rooster was gone. I felt terrible; couldn't believe I'd lost a bird. That hasn't happened in a long time, and was particularly frustrating in this moment, given the last bird of the last day of season and so on.
Anyhow, Gunner isn't giving up. His methodical gate has now turned to a sprint. He's quartering all throughout the grass and bound and determined to find this bird. I just stand there and keep my mouth shut.
About a minute later Gunner does something I didn't expect. He changes course, swims the creek, climbs the bank, and is tearing around the cut corn field. I scan 100 yards or so ahead of him and SEE THE ROOSTER RUNNING to another buffer strip. I leap the bank, cross the creek, and find myself sprinting after Gunner who's now no doubt on the rooster's scent trail. He was literally running, full speed, the very route I saw the rooster run.
The rooster hits the heavy grass and I'm concerned. He could go anywhere now, all the while concealed from view.
Gunner enters about 5 seconds after him and is working back and forth amongst the thick cover. I get there after what seems too long, and while working to catch my breath, Gunner then locks up on point. I rush in, the rooster hops/flushes up, and Gunner and I both chase after. The rooster narrowly misses Gunner's jaws and I manage to dive on top of him. Number 6 officially in the bag, and let me tell you, he was well earned.
Again, what a day! Over 35 birds seen on the last day of the season . . . most of which provided for exceptional dog work. A two man limit was bagged, plenty of seed was intentionally left for the years to come, and we witnessed hens galore! Great memories made today; great memories.
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