Opening Day

Road Runner

New member
On Saturday October 15, 2016 it was the opener of the pheasant hunt in Idaho.* I loaded the dogs into the back of the truck, at 4:00 AM and headed north.* We arrived at the first field, that I wanted to hunt, shortly after sunrise.* It had been raining most of the morning as I drove so after two or three footsteps into the field it felt more like the dogs and I were swimming rather than walking.* Both Sadie and Whitney were excited to get in there after birds. We had not walked more than 100 yards into the waist high grass and weeds before the first hen flushed 10 feet in front of me.* We continued on with our front crawl stroke through the field and the amount of water in my pants had weighted them down enough that they were falling off of me.* I stopped to hitch my britches back up and wouldn't you know it the first rooster pheasant of the season erupts from the water logged weeds.* I dropped my grip on my pants and fumbled for my shotgun.* As the gun finally reached my shoulder I let go two hurried and offline shots at the escaping bird.* Unscathed the rooster flew to safety somewhere into the deep end of the next pool/field. It always seems to happen that way.* I am never really fully ready when the beautifully colored birds magically appear.

The dogs and I drifted back and forth across the field.* Following Whitney first to the right then to the left.* Chasing scent in the expanse of ocean like cover.* Sadie is getting very birdie and I side stroke her way.* Just like clockwork she busts another rooster skyward.* With each wing beat water droplets cascade back to earth as he rockets into the gray blue of the cloudy horizon.* Not too far out and by instinct my shotgun follows his trajectory.* My mind automatically calculates the lead as my eyes sight down the barrel.* The alarm in my head screams "pull the trigger".* With the report ringing in my ears,* Sadie races to the fallen rooster.* She eagerly retrieves the pheasant to hand and gentle gives the prize over to me.* With a hearty pat on the head I praise her for a job well done.

Our journey continues floating along the lake of a field with no purposeful direction in mind.* My only consideration is to use the dogs as my compass.* We ended up boating around the field in giant undulating circles.* Whitney is in the lead now.* Her motor increasing in speed as the sweet aroma of bird scent perfume, fills her nostrils.* Like an intoxicant she inhales deeply and speeds along after the zig zag pattern.* Drunken on the scent she cruises back and forth.**100 yards, 200 yards*I know that at any second her course will provide a flush.* 300, now 400 yards anticipation building, it is palpable.* Finally 500 plus yards into the track*Whitney dives into the thickest patch of muddy weeds in the*entire field.* The third rooster of the morning appears out of the depths.* Boom echoes*in my ears and Whitney retrieves the pheasant.* Not so gentle as*Sadie's retrieve and much more reluctant to relinquish the prize Whitney delivers the rooster to hand.* *

Flushing several more hens as we navigate the rolling terrain, the two dogs and I follow the watery current of the field back toward the truck* After what seems like hours of doggy paddle we*arrive,*water logged completely, and*weighed down with*two nice rooster's in the bag.* I am happily content, what a great morning to be*alive.* The dogs and I sit on the tailgate of the truck.* Plenty of praise and quality time spent with these two labs who enrich my life so greatly.
 
Oh the joy of water logged pants and the weight of a couple roosters in the vest! Thanks for the report. We saw a handful of roosters and some very birdy cover in the SE on our journey through the other day.:cheers:
 
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