A5 Sweet 16
Well-known member
Inspired by "Hits & Misses..." by Labs.
I don't have inexplicable hits. Even the toughest, most unlikely shots that I happen to make.....they're because I'm just that awesome.
But eventually, the inexplicable misses happen.....Oy! I hate 'em. Hate 'em. Hate 'em!! Especially if they multiply.
One day toward the end of the 2016 season, my late springer Buzz & I were out on a REALLY cold & wintry day. I had 2 little public sloughs in mind, each way back there in the middle of nowhere. Each had trees & thickets around it that I thought might offer the birds some added protection from the cold that day. At the first spot, we walked WAY around on the tundra so we could approach the slough from downwind. Nothing jumped wild, so I'm thinking maybe we're in business. We start around the edge & get to the north side, Buzz kind of hopping between cattails & thickets, when he tells me there's a bird somewhere quite close. He eventually dives under the snow & bent-over weeds right at the base of the thickety stuff & out pops this HUGE rooster, right in front of me, the easiest shot known to man, a little left-to-right, slightly quartering away. I think what did me in was one tiny, little tree I had to let him clear. It gave me an instant to think how easy this shot was going to be. My feet were perfectly positioned, I saw that bird so well, & by the time he cleared that baby tree, I finished my mount & blew 2 of the biggest holes in the sky I'd ever seen. I was in a state of shock, but not for long. I soon realized that Buzz was back to that same dang thicket. I stand there, wondering how I could be so terrible & just about ready to call him off the thicket to continue hunting, when he dives back in. I think into the same hole he'd made before, & out pops another HUGE rooster! And the same...exact...thing happened. It was instant replay. I said MORE than 1 bad word, at TOP volume, & seriously almost chucked my gun in the snow. Absolutely unbelievable. After standing there long enough to clear my head to the point walking seemed possible, I called Buzz & we made the long haul straight back to the truck. We didn't even finish hunting the slough. We were going home. I didn't deserve to hunt anymore that day.
Back at the truck, I was calm, but incredibly dejected, super apologetic, & intending to go home. But Buzz wasn't ready; he was just barely loosened up. And after letting the truck warm up a few minutes, he convinced me to at least go drive by the 2nd spot about 15 minutes away & check it out. So we did. He was riding up front with me. We came up over this little hill & there they were, out feeding. About 10 birds, maybe 150 yards from the road. There happened to be a field approach right there, so I pulled in to watch them. Buzz saw them & was beside himself with excitement. They didn't seem alarmed, though, & I didn't have all day to watch pheasants eat, so I got out & waved my arms. Miraculously they didn't just run. They all flew right out into the little slough I'd had in mind about 1/4 mile from the road. I was pretty sure I saw at least 2 roosters. But man that was a long way out there that day, & there was so much snow, & it was so warm in the truck. But Buzz twisted my arm....and out we went. Again we had to walk the tundra & swing wide, CLEAR around to the downwind side. But we got in there without spooking anything. Not long after....hen....hen....hen, hen. Then within just a couple minutes of each other, there were 2 flushes, 2 roosters, 2 shots, & 2 perfect retrieves. Now feeling pretty good about ourselves, we finished that little slough & I thought...I know I saw more birds fly into here than what we flushed. So we tore that little place apart some more. Flushed a couple more hens. And right at the end...1 more rooster, 1 more shot, & 1 more perfect retrieve.
The walk back to the truck didn't seem near as cold, & the snow didn't seem near as deep. My vest was a little heavier, but Buzz was sure glad I'd taken his advice to at least do a drive-by. I felt MUCH better about my day & about life in general. It's a great feeling when your dog lets you know just what an awesome pheasant hunter they think you really are. Buzz got to ride home up front with me, and some Nutter Butters, & plenty of heat.
He'd turned the most inexplicably frustrating pheasant experience I can recall into one of the greatest. Honestly, I don't remember the 3 roosters we got all that clearly. Those 2 misses earlier are still unfortunately vivid. But this picture. I remember thinking I didn't care how cold & windy it was. We were taking the extra couple minutes to try to get a good shot. I think I did. And I'm so thankful, because almost exactly 2 years later, Buzz was gone. It's one of my favorite pictures of him, & I look at it often. It leaves no doubt in my mind who the greatest pheasant hunter around that day REALLY was.
I don't have inexplicable hits. Even the toughest, most unlikely shots that I happen to make.....they're because I'm just that awesome.
But eventually, the inexplicable misses happen.....Oy! I hate 'em. Hate 'em. Hate 'em!! Especially if they multiply.
One day toward the end of the 2016 season, my late springer Buzz & I were out on a REALLY cold & wintry day. I had 2 little public sloughs in mind, each way back there in the middle of nowhere. Each had trees & thickets around it that I thought might offer the birds some added protection from the cold that day. At the first spot, we walked WAY around on the tundra so we could approach the slough from downwind. Nothing jumped wild, so I'm thinking maybe we're in business. We start around the edge & get to the north side, Buzz kind of hopping between cattails & thickets, when he tells me there's a bird somewhere quite close. He eventually dives under the snow & bent-over weeds right at the base of the thickety stuff & out pops this HUGE rooster, right in front of me, the easiest shot known to man, a little left-to-right, slightly quartering away. I think what did me in was one tiny, little tree I had to let him clear. It gave me an instant to think how easy this shot was going to be. My feet were perfectly positioned, I saw that bird so well, & by the time he cleared that baby tree, I finished my mount & blew 2 of the biggest holes in the sky I'd ever seen. I was in a state of shock, but not for long. I soon realized that Buzz was back to that same dang thicket. I stand there, wondering how I could be so terrible & just about ready to call him off the thicket to continue hunting, when he dives back in. I think into the same hole he'd made before, & out pops another HUGE rooster! And the same...exact...thing happened. It was instant replay. I said MORE than 1 bad word, at TOP volume, & seriously almost chucked my gun in the snow. Absolutely unbelievable. After standing there long enough to clear my head to the point walking seemed possible, I called Buzz & we made the long haul straight back to the truck. We didn't even finish hunting the slough. We were going home. I didn't deserve to hunt anymore that day.
Back at the truck, I was calm, but incredibly dejected, super apologetic, & intending to go home. But Buzz wasn't ready; he was just barely loosened up. And after letting the truck warm up a few minutes, he convinced me to at least go drive by the 2nd spot about 15 minutes away & check it out. So we did. He was riding up front with me. We came up over this little hill & there they were, out feeding. About 10 birds, maybe 150 yards from the road. There happened to be a field approach right there, so I pulled in to watch them. Buzz saw them & was beside himself with excitement. They didn't seem alarmed, though, & I didn't have all day to watch pheasants eat, so I got out & waved my arms. Miraculously they didn't just run. They all flew right out into the little slough I'd had in mind about 1/4 mile from the road. I was pretty sure I saw at least 2 roosters. But man that was a long way out there that day, & there was so much snow, & it was so warm in the truck. But Buzz twisted my arm....and out we went. Again we had to walk the tundra & swing wide, CLEAR around to the downwind side. But we got in there without spooking anything. Not long after....hen....hen....hen, hen. Then within just a couple minutes of each other, there were 2 flushes, 2 roosters, 2 shots, & 2 perfect retrieves. Now feeling pretty good about ourselves, we finished that little slough & I thought...I know I saw more birds fly into here than what we flushed. So we tore that little place apart some more. Flushed a couple more hens. And right at the end...1 more rooster, 1 more shot, & 1 more perfect retrieve.
The walk back to the truck didn't seem near as cold, & the snow didn't seem near as deep. My vest was a little heavier, but Buzz was sure glad I'd taken his advice to at least do a drive-by. I felt MUCH better about my day & about life in general. It's a great feeling when your dog lets you know just what an awesome pheasant hunter they think you really are. Buzz got to ride home up front with me, and some Nutter Butters, & plenty of heat.
He'd turned the most inexplicably frustrating pheasant experience I can recall into one of the greatest. Honestly, I don't remember the 3 roosters we got all that clearly. Those 2 misses earlier are still unfortunately vivid. But this picture. I remember thinking I didn't care how cold & windy it was. We were taking the extra couple minutes to try to get a good shot. I think I did. And I'm so thankful, because almost exactly 2 years later, Buzz was gone. It's one of my favorite pictures of him, & I look at it often. It leaves no doubt in my mind who the greatest pheasant hunter around that day REALLY was.
