Bob Peters
Well-known member
In daydreams my mind wanders between the past and future. I wonder, will I always pheasant hunt? Where will I be at in 15 years? Then I relive hunts of seasons gone by. I wasn't much past being green as Irish grass. Me and Skye were down in Iowa and had one rooster in the bag that morning. Many hours and miles later and we had nary another shot fired or rooster seen. My confidence was shaky, but I didn't try to show it. Skye, well she never loses confidence that she'll scent a rooster soon, whether it be switch grass or marshy morass. I had no idea what to do, or where to do it. On a massive complex we wandered, and near a gravel section road, I planned to walk west within 20 yards of the gravel, maybe get lucky and push a rooster against the edge for a flush. Well I made it about 10 steps and Skye kinda left me and jogged up to the road, stopped, and looked back at me. I did a few light whistles, a few quiet name calls, etc. etc. There she stood in the middle of the road, locked eyes with me for 5 seconds, and then slowly jogged over the other side out of site. I was mildly frustrated that she didn't want to listen and follow my plan. I hustled through and up the ditch, then planted my feet on the far shoulder of the road. I looked for that golden retriever who had been running so happy barefoot and naked across the prairie all day. She was almost down the other side, and in the waning evening light I saw her wake in the thick horsetail as she descended the grade into a low spot, still at a jogging pace. To add context (if you're a longtime hunter), I didn't know much and had seen even less at this timepoint. Imagine you're a young/new hunter, for you've experienced this too, early in your days afield. The dog although gone from sight was easily tracked by the movement of the vegetation. I saw it pause, and then shake a little. Something must have smelled good right there, for suddenly she was moving again, and with a pace and rapidity that I could not believe. Straight through the stalks, then to the left, a circle 8, a backtrack, my eyes could hardly keep up with it all. I stood there dumbfounded wondering what was going on when finally with her dogged determination, athleticism, and powerful nose Skye closed the gap, and in a split second a rooster came screaming out with an acceleration that would make a quail blush, a dove mourn, and a ruffled grouse hand over his crown. The only part of my memory that is blurry, is where the muzzle was. This fledgling hunter just threw the gun up, looked at the bird, and pulled the trigger. A few feathers floated on the breeze as the boom subsided and I saw him land in light grass, motionless. Being below in thick cover she wasn't able to mark the fall. Running around frantically searching, I gently called to her a few times and gave her the honor she so deserved of picking up the bird that she had found and flushed. Never shy in this regard, she scooped him up, sat on her hinds and breathed heavily with an air of triumph in her instincts and abilities. That crisp autumn air, feeling the sweat drip down my back, being alone out there with my favorite dog in the world, it's a memory etched into my mind that'll never leave. I relive it often. Turning back to the future, will I always pheasant hunt? The easy and obvious answer is yes. But I'm not sure how I'll be able to do it without her. I don't have a lot of experience, but I can say, there's something special about that first dog you really get out there hunting with. Maybe I've got it all wrong, as I'm looking at it through a single perspective, but I feel like I hit the lottery with her. I think a lot of people here have hit the lottery, because there's a lot of great dogs on this forum. The wonders of pheasant hunting are hard to describe to people that haven't been before.
