North Dakota Update

Dad and I we used a total of 7 shells for our 6 bird limit today. We are typically really bad shots and that is why we drive twelve hours to hunt in an area with hundreds of pheasants, we need lots of opportunity. We started hunting at about 10 and we were finished by 12. We started passing up roosters and only shot birds that Lady pointed.

Here is a pic taken from my dad's Blackberry.

Gone Hunting

My Dad goes on one pheasant hunting trip a year. Years past we have always headed to South Dakota (dad likes to see lots of birds). Because of my school schedule this week made better sense to head out looking for pheasants so we are heading to North Dakota. I know you're probably thinking "that is a stinking long drive", or that "the bird numbers are way down this year in North Dakota." That is okay with us. If we see a handful of pheasants that will be more than we have at home in the great state of Utah.

We have some private ground lined up to hunt on and we are pretty darn excited. Years past we have hunted with neighbors, uncles, and cousins. This year it will just be Dad and me. It should be a great opportunity to spend some quality time together.

I almost forgot our dog Lady will be with us too.

If I can I'll update you throughout the week.

Hopefully we see a lot of this...

Burton L. Spiller

I'm starting to read some of the bird dog books my cousins Andy and Shawn recommend. My favorite so far is "Drummer In The Woods" by Burton L. Spiller. My favorite excerpt is the following.

Just recently an aquantance took me to the task of spending so much time afield. "Did you ever count the cost of your hunting?" he asked. "Of the time you have lost and the money you have spent?"

I replied and truthfully too, that I had never lost a moment's time in hunting: that I counted only that time lost which I spent working.

My aquantance is the type who believes every arguement is won by the person who shouts the loudest; so after he had become sufficiently out of breath to listen for a moment I told him the truth.

"You" I said, "have tended strictly to business for more than a quarter century. Sick or well, winter and summer, through storm or shine, you have missed hardly a day. You have acquired a lot of money. More money than I can ever dream of having. I hope you enjoy it, for you have paid a high price for it. A mighty high price. You think the days and weeks and months I have spent afield were wasted. Well, let me tell you this. If such a thing were possible, I would not trade even the memories of those glorious days for all the money you will ever posses."

... Can memories be measured by gold? If so than I am rich indeed.

As I read I couldn't help thinking about my first Pheasant, Lady's first point, my nephews first pheasant, my first deer, my first brook trout on a fly rod, and the list goes on and on. I wouldn't trade my memories afield for any amount of money.

The Standing Point

I had to post this. This is my dog lady pointing a pheasant in a South Dakota Blizzard, November 2008. The picture was taken by a friend. The quality isn't the best but to this day I laugh when I see it. The rooster got away, but I was so proud of Lady and this standing point.

It took a minute for us to figure out she was on point. What a day!

A FAMILY SHOOTOUT

What would a family pheasant shoot be without offending someone and their dog. Grandpa teaching the nephews the B$#@h word on accident, and the five year olds repeating it (we tried to explain that it means a female dog). Family anything wouldn't be complete without some wrestling. All in all it was a wild success.

It kind of goes against everything I believe in to shoot pen raised birds. But when your family is mostly city slickers and I have the responsibility to get all my nephews addicted to bird hunting I figured the best way to get them hooked is to get them on birds anyway I can. Well I think it worked i've got some brothers, brother-in-laws, and five or six nephews really loving this bird hunting stuff. I bought twenty birds and set them in the hills behind my brother-in-laws house. Then we released the dog.

These are my nephews Jed and Spencer, age 13 and 12, with their first pheasants. I didn't think they would shoot so straight but these guys are shooters. I think the first pheasant is pretty awesome and unforgettable.

The highlight of the the hunt didn't even include a gun. We had four boys that were too young to carry guns but they proved to be great bird dogs. Jake is nine with dark red hair, we don't really no where that came from since no one in his family on either side has red hair. The last pheasant that went down hit the ground running and Jake chased that bird a hundred yards or so before diving on top of it and wrestling it to death. Everyone was screaming "Get it Jake" "Dive on it!". I've never seen a kid smile so big in my life.

By the looks of the smiles in this picture I think a new family tradition was born.

A South Dakota Blizzard of Birds!

My dad only hunts once a year and it is our annual pheasant hunt in South Dakota. He lives for it. This year we went with some neighbors, my Uncle Dan and My cousin Jordan from Oklahoma. It was quite the occasion. Here are some pictures.

Day one was 28 degrees with snow and sixty mile an hour winds. The birds held like a puckered up butt hole. It was great the dogs had some great points.


Day two was 28 degrees snow and thirty mile an hour winds.


Day three was 24 degrees, breezy, with deep drifts.


We got lots of pheasants and even shot a handful of Sharpies. I even shot my first Prairie Chicken.

Best $100 Mutt

At fifteen one hundred dollars is a lot of cash. I never batted an eye though when I went to pick up my puppy Lady. My parents were very opposed to me getting a dog. But somehow I convinced them that a boy needs a dog. I think when I told my dad the pups were half Brittany Spaniel his heart melted. He had a Brittany when he was a boy and he always told us stories about the adventures he and his Brittany would go on.
I lied to my parents and told them that the pups were being sold for Fifty Dollars. In my fifteen-year-old head they would never allow me to spend my whole one hundred dollars on a dog.
The mother of the pups was my best friend Landon’s German Shorthair Pointer, Mattie. I had been hunting behind Mattie for two years and I knew she was a good dog. Story has it that down the street from Landon lived a proud Male Brittany Spaniel that often strutted around the neighborhood. One day they came out to feed Mattie and the Prideful Neighborhood Brittany had somehow snuck into Mattie’s Kennel. I guess that is where they get the term puppy love.
Landon gave me first pick and told me he was giving me a deal at one hundred dollars because well I was his best friend. I was ecstatic. Later I discovered, they couldn’t sell the pups very easily because they weren’t purebred they were mutts. They ended up giving most of them away. I guess I didn’t get the best friend deal I thought I was getting. But I’m positive seven years later when Landon hunts behind Lady he would gladly pay a hundred dollars to get her back.
I picked the bigger female of the bunch and gave Landon my one hundred dollars. I named her Lady and we walked home that afternoon. As far as I am concerned there has never been a happier fifteen-year-old. Lady and I were instantly best friends. We spent all our time together, accept for when I had to be in school. I was a little anxious to get her hunting and I might have jumped the gun by taking her hunting at three months. Bad idea, the gun-shots scared her to death and she ran all the way home, she was gun shy. “Shit” is all I could think. I invested in a cap gun, caught some pigeons, cut the feathers on their wings off, and let Lady chase pigeons all over the yard. Just when she would get one in her mouth I would start shooting that cap gun like a drunken Indian warrior. She was quickly over the whole gun-shy thing and had become a dog with a purpose, to hunt for birds.
We had a lot of trails in the early years. She often times would forget she was hunting for me and she would get on the scent of a running rooster pheasant and disappear. Or she would catch a whiff of a rabbit and forget we were hunting birds. The worst was when she found her first deer and chased the damn thing for what seemed hours, she eventually came home. Oh and don’t forget the time she ended up in the dog pound. Luckily I had the cash to bail her out.
Seven years later she is in her prime and everyone we hunt with wants to hunt behind her.

Big Sky Country and Von's Last Rooster

Spontaneous… is there any other way to live? We left my house in Utah at six PM and arrived in the pheasant fields of Montana nine pee stops and fourteen hours later. Just in time to buy breakfast, a license, and start shooting.
My hunting companions were mostly friends I regularly hunt with, but there was one addition, Von. And Von is old. I have lots of patience and mercy for old hunters though. I know one day I will be old and I am a firm believer in karma.
Von hadn’t killed a pheasant in twenty years and when he heard we were going pheasant hunting he just had to come and shoot one last pheasant. He is pretty ill, he had a heart attack earlier this year, and doesn’t have a lot of energy. Von also has to pee about every hundred miles or so. We figured he could block and get plenty of shooting.
It was an all night drive. I can handle that, I’m a college student and that occasionally happens in my routine, (hell what routine?). But for Von it is a hair more taxing.
We released the dogs in a great looking CRP field. Lady went on point within one minute. I thought to myself “a great introduction to hunting Montana”. It ended up being a damn porcupine. Luckily I got Lady off, but my friends had a new Brittney Mollie and she dove in mouth open.
Needless to say we went from hunting mode to surgen mode real fast. I pried her mouth open while Brent and Landon used pliers to pull quills out of her mouth and tongue. Talk about a learning the hard way. That was the first porcupine of the trip, but it wouldn’t be the last.
After fifteen minutes or so of surgery we set out on the CRP field, five guys and three dogs. Lady immediately got birdy and went on point. This time it was a covey of Sharpies, they were pretty far out but I got lucky and dropped one.
We saw a lot of Sharpies in that field and Landon knocked one down too. Lady finally pinned a rooster down on the way back to the truck. He flew right into a head wind and I had a slow flying rooster and I got him.
We heard lots of stories from Brent about the mass numbers of birds he saw last year in that same field, but this year they were no where to be found. The birds in that part of the Montana were definitely down from last year. Most of the roosters were big, old, and had long tail feathers. Or they were so young they weren’t all the way feathered out yet.
Von blocked all day, and still hadn’t got a rooster. The only way we ever got a rooster that day was chasing the dogs. These birds were way to smart to be pushed and blocked. The either held or flew way out of range.

The second day was great. We got creative, hunted hard and got into birds. Von didn’t feel very well and he stayed at the hotel that day.
The third and final day Von was feeling well enough to get out. The day before we had scouted some areas and had some spots we thought would definitely produce some roosters for Von. Oh and they did. We saw as many birds this day as we had the other two days combined. Von got lots of shots but kept missing. The day was getting late and I was starting to stress if Von would get his rooster. Finally we had Von blocking and a rooster came flying overhead and he connected with his second shot and sent the rooster straight into a pond. Lady dove in and made a stylish retrieve. Von finally killed his rooster and we all felt our stress levels diminish. He smiled like a little boy with his first rooster. Hunting is definitely good for mans health. I saw it that day in Von’s eyes.
Lady is in her prime, seven years old, and everyone without a dog wants to hunt near her. She doesn’t bust birds and she never slows down. They all loved her on this trip. Her mother Mattie was on this trip with us too. She is ten and showing her age. It makes me sober to think Lady will one day slow down and show her age. Till then I have a lot more bird hunting outings to go on.
Montana was fantastic. We hunted hard, got Von his rooster, watched awesome dog work, saw gorgeous prairie sunsets, and watched great cloud shows the kind you only see in the big sky country of Montana. No wonder I love this stuff so much

Some great CRP.

Big sky sunset on the prairie.

We got into a few sharpies that didn't fly too soon.

Montana on the mind!

"Damn it Eric! Hunting again?"  Those were my mothers exact words when I told her I was going on another hunting trip.  It is a little bit easier to tell her I am going hunting again, over the phone.  It was a lot more difficult in person, because in person she can give me the look!  She seems to think college students should attend class.  She still worries like you wouldn't believe.  You have to love mothers, they are great!  What would life be without someone to worry about us hunters?

It should be great.  Last Saturday my best friend Landon invited me to go on a pheasant hunting trip to Montana with his dad, him, and an old neighbor of ours.  Should be great.  I have never been to Montana bird hunting, I've just read about it in magazines and blogs.  Kind of a dream come true for me.

I bought a couple boxes of shells and got a new center bead put on my shotgun so I should be all ready.  My GSP/ Brittany mutt Lady is really excited too.  Landon's GSP is my dog Lady's mother.  So This is kind of a family outing.  If I can i'll try to keep everyone posted, with pictures and stories of the happenings during the expedition as they unfold (if the motels have wireless) .  We should be hunting Thursday morning.