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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

Hunting

Echo – Season 2

I listen to veteran wing-shooters talk about that one dog they own or owned that is special.   They describe a dog that instinctively works in harmony with them.  Beyond locating and retrieving evasive birds, the dog understands how to put their partner in a position for a successful shot.

This is my 7th year in the field, and Echo is my second gundog.  We adopted our first gundog, Pride, when his original owner passed away. He was 7, and had already spent many days in the field.  Pride’s initial reaction when I tried to hunt with him was to run to the truck.  His bond with Dick was obvious, and it took time to build trust with him. Pride and I had 4 great hunting seasons together, and he seemed to always salvage a difficult hunt by locating a deceptive rooster as the day was ending.

Echo is my first gundog that we are raising as a puppy. 2016 was our first season together, and she performed admirably from the start.  She was not even one, when I shot my first wild pheasant over her.  We spent many days in the field last year, and in all types of conditions.  The one characteristic that I noticed from day one, is that she always looks to see where I am positioned. She never catches a scent, and takes off in a futile chase to locate a running rooster. Echo  is a quick study and intuitively hunts within my shooting range.  She seems to understand my limitations, and works to get me a makeable shot.  Echo possess an accurate nose, incredible speed, and a high prey drive.   She will hunt from dawn to dusk with a never-quit attitude.

I don’t have enough experience to confidently state that Echo is a once in a lifetime gundog.  That said, she is proving to be everything I want in a hunting companion.

Video of Our Second Upland Trip of the 2017 – 2018 Season

Hunting

Experience

After spending over two hours sighting in my X2, I headed to the Shipping Trap pasture in order to do some late afternoon scouting.  It was the day before the Colorado deer rifle opener, and I was curious to see if there were any animals worth pursuing.  The wind was blowing hard from the northwest so I walked into the stiff breeze using the trees as cover.  It did not take long to find the first buck.  He was 500 yards north of my position, and he stared at me for thirty seconds before trotting further north.  My binoculars revealed he was young and unimpressive.  I continued my walk for another one-half mile and then noticed movement far ahead of me.  Although I was quite a distance away from the deer, it was obvious that a few bucks were intermingling with does.   I managed to stay concealed as I got closer to the herd.  At about 200 yards, I poked my head out from my position behind a thick cottonwood.  There were nine does and five bucks, and it was obvious that the rut was on.  One of the three big bucks was mating with each female. If another buck challenged him, the dominate male knocked him away.  I had never witnessed anything like this so I decided to take a risk and move closer.  I did not need my optics when I got to within 100 yards.  The dominate male eventually spotted me, and stared at me for five minutes through the trees.  Realizing it was important to keep these deer on property, I slowly backed out of the area.

Saturday morning we entered the pasture about 20 minutes before shooting light. The wind was blowing directly from the west, so my strategy was didn’t differ from the night before.  I weaved my way along the dry creek, glassing the landscape every 30 yards.  The rising sun started to reveal animals moving around the western portion of the land.  A small buck slowly walked 200 yards in front of me, seemingly unaware of my presence.  Thirty minutes later, a group of five does and a young buck spotted me and stopped.  I ducked down and remained motionless on the ground.  When I picked my head up minutes later, the buck had made his way to me and stopped just thirty feet from my position.  Eventually I stood up and spooked the herd.  The good news is that they ran south, leaving everything to my west intact.  My pace slowed when I was 250 yards from the area where I witnessed the rutting bucks.  While there was no visible action, I glassed in and around the trees. I first noticed a few does bedding down, then a large rack appeared from the tall grass.  My heart started to race as I was looking at the stud from the day before.  Concealed behind a set of trees, I put a plan together to stalk the buck.  The tree closest to him ranged at 240 yards.  A small berm kept me hidden as I belly-crawled to the next set of trees.  After picking cactus thorns out of my knees & thighs, I rose, keeping my back against the cottonwood.  I was now 180 yards from my target, so I put my crosshairs of my scope where I thought his back was in the tall grass.  Twenty minutes went by and the buck barely moved.  The doe that was laying with him stood up and he followed. He took one step in my direction and I shot him in the heart. As the buck collapsed another big buck rose from his hidden position in the meadow. Seemingly confused at what just transpired, he walked towards the dead deer, and actually gave him a slight knock before moving on.

I approached the downed old buck with excitement and pride.  His face and antlers confirmed years of dominance.  While my adventure was over quickly, the memories of the event are forever etched in my mind.