Category Archives: Hunting

Upland, Waterfowl and Big Game

Hunting

Wild Birds

Season four with Echo had many memorable highlights. While birds in Eastern Colorado were not as abundant as in past years, she and I managed to get it done more often than not. There was one specific day in December that proved to be the most incredible I have ever witnessed in my years in the field.

Greg and I rolled into Yuma just after 8 am. The night before I received permission to hunt a fantastic half section of native grass just south of town. I hunted this property throughout the early part of the season, and I had taken a few roosters while seeing many more. The dogs hit the field with excitement as we made our way to the initial edge of the thigh-high cover. Not dissimilar to previous walks, there were birds present, but they all flushed wild. Seventy-five minutes later, and with no shots taken, Greg and I regrouped at the truck to debate what we would do next.

I have additional private access just west of town, and there are some good WIAs within minutes of our location. Taking a calculated risk, we made the decision to travel an hour east in order to hunt an exquisite farm just north of Wray. As we entered town, we noticed a blanket of fresh snow covering the ground. The newly discovered conditions brought great anticipation for the day ahead. As we drove to my favorite spot in Colorado, we pulled over to evaluate a corner where we have access. I noticed a hen sitting on a plum thicket branch about two feet above the snowy ground. She got fidgety and took off. An unseen rooster followed her, and then forty birds exploded from their hidden positions. Greg and I looked at one another and smiled.

We quietly approached the half section of CRP with a realistic expectation to find a lot of birds. Two cornfields border the 320 acres of tall grass, making this property an ideal environment for housing wild pheasants. As we walked north towards a perfectly designed shelterbelt, birds suddenly started to appear in every direction. Echo and I were still seventy-five yards from the trees when the action began. Literally two hundred pheasants took flight in groups of twenty. Picking up the pace Echo and I finally made it to the east side of the pines. As birds continued to fly in waves from their hiding spots, they veered away from me once they noticed my conspicuous location. I took a futile shot at a rooster that briefly appeared before vanishing from my vantage point. Echo remained focused as her senses were sharp given the number of birds that had been present. She and I made our way around to the backside of the windbreak, and a hen busted followed by a rooster. I mounted my shotgun and followed the bird to my right. One shot crumpled him, and Echo made a quick retrieve.

Echo and I limited out in less than an hour. We saw more wild pheasants on this one day then during ten trips combined last season. It was good to see these magnificent animals flourishing in ideal habitat.

A Colorado Pheasant Hunt – December 15, 2019

Hunting

Hunting Partner

It is not uncommon during Colorado’s upland bird season for me to drive over 450 miles and walk 13 in a single day.  I am usually up just before 4 am, and out the door no later than 4:45 am.  The trip to the eastern corridor of the state is long, but I am fueled by both adrenaline & caffeine.  Upon arrival in bird country, my heart starts to race as I anticipate the day’s adventure. Once I am out of the truck, I expect that every shelterbelt, plum thicket and CRP field that I walk is loaded with exquisite pheasants.  The reality is that I generally walk for many miles before raising my shotgun at a crafty rooster.  There are days that can be bleak, and exhausting when no birds reveal themselves for hours on end. Upland hunting can be even more exasperating when erratic shooting undermines limited opportunities.

It takes someone with comparable DNA to want to prowl the prairie with you. They possess the same commitment, passion and unadulterated love for the chase. Your hunting partner embraces the grind, and he does not need an explanation when you want to hit one more spot late in the day before the long journey home. They don’t have to be a colleague at work, a college roommate or even your best friend. They just need to bring the same level of intensity to the sometimes-complex, arduous process of hunting the uplands. I value those people that pursue birds with me. I enjoy talking strategy with them, and learning from their divergent experiences in the field. They know when they can chide me for missed shots, but they are also aware when silence is golden. It takes time to create the mutual trust to want to begin hunting together. Once the required commonalities are satisfied, a unique respect between people is born.

My hope is that both of my teenage sons evolve to become zealous wingshooters. I know that I cannot force them to love it, and that there is an opportunity cost associated with hunting with their dad. That said, my boys would be my ideal hunting partners.

A Colorado Pheasant Hunt – December 15, 2019 – The Video

Hunting

Echo – My Bird Dog – Season Three

I read that the lights go on for most bird dogs at age three. Obedience training is solidified, and the unbreakable connection between the owner and the dog is established.  Additionally, the dog demonstrates discipline and focus, despite the many distractions going on around them. 

Echo and I entered the 2018/2019 upland bird season having spent nearly twenty-five days in the field in the during the preceding two seasons.  I have shot close to seventy-five wild roosters over my lab during this time frame. Echo’s prey drive is high, and her enthusiasm when we hunt together is contagious.  Over the summer, leading into the season, we did a lot of bumper work to ensure she remained fit and competent. If the day was too hot to run, we moved our effort to a local lake.  While Echo is e-collar conditioned, I reinforced my commands verbally. My hope was that she would continue to evolve without the need for periodic stimulation. Unfortunately, the local game preserve was sold, and our time on birds was reduced to just two afternoons. This surprising situation undermined our off-season training program. Preserve birds allow for the dog to improve their steadiness despite the excitement of live prey. I was not able to do the barbed wire fence work that was one of my off-season objectives.  Occasionally, Echo will barrel through an unseen barrier, putting her in a dangerous predicament. 

Our first day in the fields of Eastern, Colorado had us in pursuit of pheasants in the corners of newly cut corn circles. The grass was relatively thick despite a recent snowfall. As Greg and I walked west, Echo and her brother Whitley worked both sides of a barbed wire fence.  We were just over a mile into our hunt, and the dogs had already flushed a handful of hens. The wind blew hard from the north, and Echo and Whitley started to get birdy. Greg was to my right, and a bit ahead of me when he pointed at the steady dogs. Seconds later the rooster started to fly when he exited the dense cover about twenty yards from my position. My first shot was quick, and behind the bird. I was more composed on my second shot, and my round hit the bird solidly on its left flank. Echo retrieved the dead pheasant, and like that, our season was underway.

Echo and I would navigate around an early season injury to her foot, and enjoy ten days of hunting the uplands. A December shooting slump had me confused and frustrated, but my girl did not quit on me. She approached every field with determination and a commitment to the chase. I love my dog, and I look forward to our future adventures together.

Videos of our Season

Hunting

Failure

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“We pray our sights be straight and our aim be true.  We pray for no pain to the game we pursue. We thank you, Lord for this land. We thank you for the sights from our stands. We pray for safety one and all.  We pray we may return in the fall.”

-Camille Pissaro

Failure brings on all types of undesirable emotions. For me, failure usually creates a gut-wrenching, remorseful reaction to whatever I was attempting to accomplish. Many times, these feelings negatively impact my frame of mind for the foreseeable future.

On the second day of Colorado’s deer rifle season, my plan involved putting myself in an advantageous position before sunup.  I drove down the main road leaving headquarters at a quickened pace. It was 5 am, 33 degrees and shooting light was over an hour away. Towards the end of five mile road a truck was parked about 150 yards inside the entrance to the Ranch. I cautiously pulled my pickup next to his vehicle. He was an older man dressed in camo, highlighted with the proper amount of hunter’s orange. He told me that he was waiting to contact the owner of the property.  I asked him who he was specifically looking for. When he could not come up with a name, I politely asked him to leave. As he turned his truck around, I looked up the hill to the west, and saw the outline of the buck that poacher was eyeing. I trained my binoculars on him, and I was able to discern that he was a deer that I wanted to take.

I grabbed my rifle and bipod, and made my way across the cattle guard. The buck was feeding uphill, and he did not seem aware of my presence. I put my rifle into the bipod, and got comfortable. The buck was 151 yards from my shooting position, and he decided to lay down. The sun was coming up behind me, so I felt confident that I could remain concealed until I was permitted to shoot him. About thirty minutes later, the buck stood up and took two steps to his left. With my crosshairs on his shoulder, I squeezed the trigger. The buck kicked hard, and spun around as he fell to the ground. I stood up, as I thought the animal was fatally wounded.  Suddenly, he raised up, obviously injured, but able to walk. I attempted to shoot him off hand, but I missed.  He made his way over the hill heading southwest.  I ran towards the buck, realizing that I needed to kill him before he got beyond from my effective range. The noise I made startled the wounded deer, and he unexpectedly turned and jumped the adjacent fence and then ran across the highway. Recognizing that the animal was hurt, I made the difficult decision to pursue him, even though I would no longer be in my game management unit. I know the pasture where he entered, and I scoured the land both on foot and in my truck.  This section of the Ranch abuts the neighbor’s property just one mile to the north. That landowner leases his land to an outfitter who charges a lot of money for guided hunts. The deer needed to be recovered before he became inaccessible. As I drove to the north end of the land, the injured deer jumped from his bedded position, and he made his way over the fence.  My heart sank as I drove to the fence line, and watched him limp away at fifty yards.  I quickly received permission from the ranch manager to take the deer, but I hesitated because I figured that the outfitter would be present.  Recognizing I was shaken up, I took a few deep breaths, and I tried to collect myself. I drove to an area where I had both mobile reception, as well as data access.  My objective was to contact the outfitter, and determine if he was hunting with clients.  It took me well over one hour to figure out who was leasing the property, as well as to find his mobile number. Soon after getting the outfitter on the line, he accused me of trespassing, lying, and many other unseemly acts. He threatened to call the CPW, and told me to expect a hefty fine. Recognizing that I had done nothing wrong, I called the CPW, and asked them to meet me at the Ranch. The officers listened to my story, and completed an extensive investigation of the incident. Hours later, they absolved me of any wrongdoing, and offered to help me locate the deer.  Despite looking all over the pasture for two hours, we could not find him. Discouraged, embarrassed, and angry, I packed up and headed for home.

I have replayed my initial shot multiple times over the last couple of weeks. I cannot determine what occurred on such a routine shot. My subsequent range work did not reveal the issue, as my aim proved to be spot-on. The guilt I feel for wounding the deer will never leave me.  I accept responsibility for my failure, and I hope it will never happen again.

Family, Hunting

Rookie

Hunting is difficult. For people who were not born into a hunting family, or had a mentor early in life, there are many challenges associated with taking up the sport. Despite the fact that I started hunting in my 40s, I have been able to learn quickly because of patient and thoughtful friends. It is now time to pay it forward.

DJ and I met freshmen year of high school, and became great friends. We don’t get to spend much time together as he lives in Florida with his family.  Our lives have fundamentally changed over the last 35 years, but our bond has never lapsed.  Over the last couple of years, DJ has expressed a real interest in hunting.  To that point, I invited him to spend a few days with Echo and me pursuing birds on the eastern plains of Colorado.

Even the most veteran of upland hunters will tell you that it is hard to kill a pheasant.  Wild roosters are wily, and they know how to avoid predators.  No matter how stealthy you are, pheasants seem to detect your presence just seconds before you are able to raise your weapon.  Not dissimilar to golf, if you’re slightly off the mark that day, poor shooting will undermine your success.  If you factor in DJ’s novice shotgun skills, and the warm, windy conditions, the odds of him harvesting a cock during our trip was low.

The first field of the day proved to be exactly what we needed to start our hunt.  The initial walk in area (WIA) had 10 birds hunkered down in the tumble weeds next to a corn field.  Echo easily found them, but we did not get a shot at a rooster.  Despite our failure to take a bird, DJ got to feel the excitement associated with flushing pheasants.  Our adrenaline was pumping and I hoped we would have another encounter before the end of the day. As we approached the next WIA, we watched from a distance, three roosters eating gravel off the road.  We hid the truck behind haybales that were adjacent to the field, and told Echo to hunt it up.  She took advantage of a strong northwest wind as we approached the grass-covered irrigation equipment.  It did not take long before Echo picked up the scent of the birds.  I told DJ to position himself on the northern side of the cover.  The first rooster busted from his position, and I shot him at 20 yards.  More roosters followed, but DJ did not feel comfortable with his shooting options.  With a bird in my pack we kept moving west, allowing Echo to venture in and out of the dense CRP.  As we neared the end of the quarter section, Echo became birdy.  Just as I told DJ to be ready, a rooster busted from his position on the northern side of the irrigation apparatus.  The 20-mph wind hit the bird’s plumage, and he started to sail south.  I heard DJ take a shot, and saw the load impact the rooster’s right side, sending the bird into a downward tumble.  I hollered to the heavens as I knew DJ had just taken his first ever wild pheasant! Echo retrieved the downed rooster, and delivered it to DJ.  I congratulated my friend as we both realized that our objective had been accomplished.

I was not a bird hunter when DJ and I met years ago. I was thrilled to share my passion for the uplands with my friend.  I can confidently say that he will be back.

Video – Our Pheasant Hunt in Eastern, Colorado