A Bird Hunter's Journal
Friday, 11/12/04, 9:00am, Dallas, TX
I'm convinced dogs are smarter than people. As I begin to load up the SUV for another return trip home to hit the opening of Kansas pheasant season, my yellow lab gets excited. By the time he sees the old 870 Wingmaster and faded blaze orange vest, he's bouncing off the ceiling. He knows what this weekend is about. My neighbor, on the other hand, doesn't. With shell boxes, sleeping bag, worn boots, dog bag and sheathed shotgun leaning against my vehicle, he walks over looking puzzled. "So what are you doing this weekend?" I hate the city.
6:15pm, Lyons, KS
After driving west through downtown, I'm buzzed by a corporate Learjet taking off from a single-runway airport. Even rich folk apparently read this part of Kansas should be thick with birds, 'cause no one flies a jet into this town unless it's Opening Weekend or the pilot's drunk.
8:07pm, Great Bend, KS
Finally meet up with the rest of the boys; guys that have hunted togther for years. Handshakes and beers are quickly passed out, recent stories are swapped and Travis "Grizzly Adams" Foster loses $10 five minutes into the first hand of poker. I also see a bottle of Jack sitting on the table over there...
Saturday, 1:45pm, Rush County, KS
Not a bad morning. We see a ton of birds and the dogs work well. I pulled the trigger twice; harvest one and double with Chris on another. As a group, well, let's just say the skeet range is in order for a few of us. There's something downright funny when you hear someone shoot, followed by several mumbled cuss words which, in turn, are followed by guys laughing. We eat lunch at the only burger joint in the county and watch KU lose to UT in the final 11 seconds of the football game thanks to a blown referee call. I need to go shoot something.
Saturday, 5:47pm, Rush County, KS
Back at the farm, we count up the day's work. Fifteen birds. Not bad when you consider the group missed three times that many. Hell, we saw so many birds Matt almost Barry Bond-ed a quail with his barrel (opening weekend on quail is next weekend). At one point, he even demonstrated the proper technique of a real Kansas cock-block for us (the proof is shown above). Back at the farmhouse, we drop the tailgates, crack a few beers and clean birds under a dropping sunset.They write songs about days like this.
Sunday, 11/14/04, Rush County, KS
It rained last night. Not enough to cause problems, but enough to hold scent and give the dogs a sporting chance. We walk a few draws, several cut milo fields and the biggest, baddest CRP field I've ever hunted. Some birds flush early; some hold tight. Think the X Games have excitement? Try holding it together when a pheasant flies up your pant leg, out your ass and back behind you. A small bit of pee drips out every time that happens.
12:28pm, Rush County, KS
The best table to eat from is the dropped tailgate of a rusty, baby blue 1976 Chevy pickup. During lunch, we hear a few roosters in the milo field across from the old farmhouse. We hit that field next and bag a few more birds for our trouble. My dog earns his ride home by finding a bird Manhart dropped and then lost for well over ten minutes in some thick milo. Man, I love him and this (the dog, not Manhart...)
4:30pm, Rush County, KS
Total tally for the day? 21 birds. Most of them are young, but a few big spurs can be found in the group. We hand out a few more beers, clean our harvest, divide up the birds and snap a few pictures. A few of us leave soon afterwards. But a few of us, however, stick around not wanting the weekend to end just yet. Within minutes, another bottle of Jack mysteriously appears. And somehow, over the next two hours as the sun disappears, so does that bottle.
PS. Loch, you shot his hat for God's sake. You owe him one.
I'm convinced dogs are smarter than people. As I begin to load up the SUV for another return trip home to hit the opening of Kansas pheasant season, my yellow lab gets excited. By the time he sees the old 870 Wingmaster and faded blaze orange vest, he's bouncing off the ceiling. He knows what this weekend is about. My neighbor, on the other hand, doesn't. With shell boxes, sleeping bag, worn boots, dog bag and sheathed shotgun leaning against my vehicle, he walks over looking puzzled. "So what are you doing this weekend?" I hate the city.
6:15pm, Lyons, KS
After driving west through downtown, I'm buzzed by a corporate Learjet taking off from a single-runway airport. Even rich folk apparently read this part of Kansas should be thick with birds, 'cause no one flies a jet into this town unless it's Opening Weekend or the pilot's drunk.
8:07pm, Great Bend, KS
Finally meet up with the rest of the boys; guys that have hunted togther for years. Handshakes and beers are quickly passed out, recent stories are swapped and Travis "Grizzly Adams" Foster loses $10 five minutes into the first hand of poker. I also see a bottle of Jack sitting on the table over there...
Saturday, 1:45pm, Rush County, KS
Not a bad morning. We see a ton of birds and the dogs work well. I pulled the trigger twice; harvest one and double with Chris on another. As a group, well, let's just say the skeet range is in order for a few of us. There's something downright funny when you hear someone shoot, followed by several mumbled cuss words which, in turn, are followed by guys laughing. We eat lunch at the only burger joint in the county and watch KU lose to UT in the final 11 seconds of the football game thanks to a blown referee call. I need to go shoot something.
Saturday, 5:47pm, Rush County, KS
Back at the farm, we count up the day's work. Fifteen birds. Not bad when you consider the group missed three times that many. Hell, we saw so many birds Matt almost Barry Bond-ed a quail with his barrel (opening weekend on quail is next weekend). At one point, he even demonstrated the proper technique of a real Kansas cock-block for us (the proof is shown above). Back at the farmhouse, we drop the tailgates, crack a few beers and clean birds under a dropping sunset.They write songs about days like this.
Sunday, 11/14/04, Rush County, KS
It rained last night. Not enough to cause problems, but enough to hold scent and give the dogs a sporting chance. We walk a few draws, several cut milo fields and the biggest, baddest CRP field I've ever hunted. Some birds flush early; some hold tight. Think the X Games have excitement? Try holding it together when a pheasant flies up your pant leg, out your ass and back behind you. A small bit of pee drips out every time that happens.
12:28pm, Rush County, KS
The best table to eat from is the dropped tailgate of a rusty, baby blue 1976 Chevy pickup. During lunch, we hear a few roosters in the milo field across from the old farmhouse. We hit that field next and bag a few more birds for our trouble. My dog earns his ride home by finding a bird Manhart dropped and then lost for well over ten minutes in some thick milo. Man, I love him and this (the dog, not Manhart...)
4:30pm, Rush County, KS
Total tally for the day? 21 birds. Most of them are young, but a few big spurs can be found in the group. We hand out a few more beers, clean our harvest, divide up the birds and snap a few pictures. A few of us leave soon afterwards. But a few of us, however, stick around not wanting the weekend to end just yet. Within minutes, another bottle of Jack mysteriously appears. And somehow, over the next two hours as the sun disappears, so does that bottle.
PS. Loch, you shot his hat for God's sake. You owe him one.
posted by TheBDS at 1:18 AM
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