A Hunting Story

As I have mentioned in another post, hunting is a tradition in South Dakota. Like any tradition, it
needs to be carefully passed from generation to generation. I enjoy taking new prospective hunters (especially young hunters) hunting as much as any aspect of the hunting culture.

Pheasant hunting is an important part of the South Dakota economy, culture and tradition. I believe that every young person, male or female, should take part in some way. If they don't want to carry a gun, they should still walk the fields to see Mother Nature in Her glory.

Several years ago, one of my son's friends expressed interest in hunting. Joe had never hunted before and I jumped at the chance to take him afield for the first time. He and my son, Alex, were both about 16 or 17 at the time.

So on the morning of Opening Day 2006, we loaded the truck down with guns, ammunition, dog supplies, snacks, lunch, drinks and other miscellaneous items. It took longer to load the truck than we would be hunting but we wouldn't want to forget anything we needed! We had enough food and drink to be in isolation for a month. But every hunter knows sandwiches always taste better when you're hunting. That's why hunters can walk 5-6 miles in a day and still end up with positive calories for the day!

We had 8-9 hunters that day. As was our tradition, we lined up in a ("flying") wedge formation (hunters on ends slightly ahead of those hunters in the middle) and set off across the field. The idea of the wedge formation is that if birds are flushed in the middle of the formation, those hunters on the end will have a better opportunity to shoot them as they fly to the right or left. Any birds on the sides of the field will hopefully be pushed toward the middle of the field where the other hunters are.

It's fun to put young or first-time hunters on the ends because since they can see them coming, they have a bit more time to prepare for the shot as the bird approaches and hopefully they have a closer shot. Pheasants can surprise a novice hunter when they get up and make it more difficult to get a good shot.

We had placed Joe on the right end of the wedge formation on that day. The field we walked was a half mile long and birds were getting up periodically as we covered that distance. Some flew straight away and other flew right or left.

Joe (right) with Alex and the infamous ringneck

We were about two thirds of the way through the field when a bird got up on the left side of the formation and flew to the right, passing in front of each hunter. As each of us flung lead at the ring-necked bird passing in front of us, the pheasant continued to gain altitude. By the time he got to the right side of the formation, he was at the top side of the troposphere! No veteran hunter would consider wasting a shot at the out-of-range bird.

But Joe was not a veteran hunter. Figuring everyone else in the wedge had taken a shot at this indestructible bird, Joe cut loose with a shot of his own. Like a strike of lightning, one of the 6 shot lead pellets in Joe's shell broke the wing of that rooster pheasant and it helicoptered to the ground just in front of Joe. The shock of the bird hitting the ground stunned it and it did not run, though its legs were thrashing as it came to the ground.

Joe chased the bird down and stashed it in his hunting vest while the rest of us whooped it up for the the rookie hunter. I think we were more excited than Joe was. He was distracted by the ground pursuit of the bird.

We finished our drive and then gathered in a huddle at the end of the field to discuss the highlights and the low lights of the previous 25-30 minutes of warfare. Joe walked up with a huge grin on his face and everyone congratulated him on bagging his first ringneck.

I told him to pull to bird out so we could get the obligatory photo. He handed his gun to someone and reached back into his vest. As he did, the pheasant jumped out of the opposite side of his vest and took off running. Joe looked as if someone had shot his dog.

Meanwhile, our Springer Spaniel, Repo, took off in pursuit of the runaway ringneck. The pheasant (with a broken wing) was running for a tree line about 75 yards from where we were standing. As the hunters scrambled, Joe was speechless (and motionless).

Everyone recognized that this wasn't just ANY bird, this was Joe's FIRST bird so losing it was not an option. Though he wasn't aware of that significance, Repo chased the bird like it was the ONLY bird left on earth.

The ringneck beat Repo to the tree line but was still no match for his nose. He sniffed the bird out of its first hiding spot into another before securing it between his soft jaws and bringing him back to the group.

Repo with our bag; one of those birds is Joe's

The whole affair only caused some serious ribbing for Joe. "Joe did not shoot the bird, he just scared it," was one comment. Another commented that Joe had not shot the bird but that it was the sheer weight of all the lead taken on as the bird flew in front of each of us that brought it down. Despite all of that, there was another round celebration for retrieving the $100 bird (it seemed as though at least $100 of ammo was spent on the bird as he passed down the gauntlet!).

Joe took the harassment gracefully as he got his bird back and posed for photos. Before he got it back though, he learned how to give the pheasant's neck a swift jerk to be certain that there would not be another race to the tree line!

We have had a lotta fun telling this story over the years. Whenever Joe is around as we tell the story, the same smile crosses his face. He offers no details and no opinions regardless of how the story is embellished. He knows that everyone else missed that bird and he got it. His first pheasant was a memorable one!