Pudelpointer
CGN frequent flyer
- Location
- Lethbridge, Alberta
Pheasant season opened here in AB yesterday.
I started the morning by sneaking into a creek bottom on a property that holds a lot of deer. I have seen many deer work their way to the north end of the property as soon as guys start shooting at the south end, and I thought I could intercept a whitetail with my bow, as I have a doe draw in the area.
Unfortunately, the creek was way up from two days before, the irrigation district is letting water out of the upstream reservoir, so I could not get across to the area I wanted. I sat on a trail by the creek and waited, and eventually had two does with three fawns cross the creek behind me, shortly after shooting began.
I gave up and headed back to my truck to trade my bow for my old Browning double auto, and to let Parker (my dog) out for a stretch. As I got back up the hill towards the truck, I could see other bird hunters working into the creek bottom from every direction. I could also see, in the snow, where a number of pheasants had crossed the field and entered a small, treed, cattail marsh.
I grabbed gun and dog and started working a weedy draw towards the creek, but the dog kept trying to cross over the field to where I had seen the tracks. My intention was to work down to the creek as I had heard a few roosters crowing there earlier, and then come into the cattail marsh from down wind. However, Parker knew there were birds there, and was becoming impatient with my direction, as well as the fact that more guys were showing up by the minute, so I decided that we should probably hit the cattails right away.
As soon as I sent Parker in, he started going all 'birdy'; flash pointing, relocating, and circling around. I figured there were a few birds running around. Parker eventually circled around, down wind of the cattails, hit scent and went on point just inside the far edge of the patch. I hustled down to the bottom of the cattails so the bird(s) were between us. Shortly after I could hear, and see cattails moving as a bird made a break for the open field. Then all hell broke loose.
At least 15 birds got up, almost simultaneously, with roosters cackling in every direction. I picked out a rooster heading straight away and dumped him at about 25 yards, then swung hard to my right (there were other hunters beyond most of the birds heading across the field) and hammered another rooster flying hard towards tree cover.
Parker retrieved the first bird and then dropped it 5 feet in front of me as he spun around to give a not-so-friendly greeting to a Chesapeake retriever that had broke loose from her owners control. She quickly realized that retrieving this particular bird might be more difficult then she had first anticipated, and headed back to her master.
The second bird had dropped somewhere in the cattails, and with all the fresh bird scent it took Parker a few minutes, and some coaxing, to find it.
10 minutes of hunting, 2 seconds of shooting, and opening day for pheasants was over. Not a bad way to start the season.
Having had such good luck in the morning, I decided to accept a friends invitation to see if we could pick up some snow geese, pass shooting them at the end of a nearby reservoir.
We headed out at 4pm and were sitting in the grass waiting for the geese to head out for their evening feed by 5pm.
In a complete reversal from my snappy shooting in the morning, I had a hell of a time hitting those geese. I do not know if they fly faster or slower then Canada's, but man, what a disaster. Two dozen shells later, found me with a whopping 2 geese.
Then, to top it off, I dropped a nice greenhead that landed out on the ice, about 30 yards from shore. Parker broke ice to 4 yards from the bird and then decided that his course of action may have been a mistake. He then proceeded to stand there, staring at the bird while up to his belly in broken ice and slush.
No amount of encouragement or chastisement would make him fetch that duck. So I called him out. Made him sit on shore. And then proceeded to call him every name I could think of as I waded in my hiking boots and carhart's up to my nuts through the icy cold water, you know due to the ice, out to the duck and back.
As soon as I got back to shore I stuffed the bird in my vest, not allowing Parker to even sniff it. I was sympathetic, eventually, as that ice sure hurt my knees trying to break through it.
Sorry, no pics of my soaking, freezing self.
Anyone else having luck on pheasants?
I started the morning by sneaking into a creek bottom on a property that holds a lot of deer. I have seen many deer work their way to the north end of the property as soon as guys start shooting at the south end, and I thought I could intercept a whitetail with my bow, as I have a doe draw in the area.
Unfortunately, the creek was way up from two days before, the irrigation district is letting water out of the upstream reservoir, so I could not get across to the area I wanted. I sat on a trail by the creek and waited, and eventually had two does with three fawns cross the creek behind me, shortly after shooting began.
I gave up and headed back to my truck to trade my bow for my old Browning double auto, and to let Parker (my dog) out for a stretch. As I got back up the hill towards the truck, I could see other bird hunters working into the creek bottom from every direction. I could also see, in the snow, where a number of pheasants had crossed the field and entered a small, treed, cattail marsh.
I grabbed gun and dog and started working a weedy draw towards the creek, but the dog kept trying to cross over the field to where I had seen the tracks. My intention was to work down to the creek as I had heard a few roosters crowing there earlier, and then come into the cattail marsh from down wind. However, Parker knew there were birds there, and was becoming impatient with my direction, as well as the fact that more guys were showing up by the minute, so I decided that we should probably hit the cattails right away.
As soon as I sent Parker in, he started going all 'birdy'; flash pointing, relocating, and circling around. I figured there were a few birds running around. Parker eventually circled around, down wind of the cattails, hit scent and went on point just inside the far edge of the patch. I hustled down to the bottom of the cattails so the bird(s) were between us. Shortly after I could hear, and see cattails moving as a bird made a break for the open field. Then all hell broke loose.
At least 15 birds got up, almost simultaneously, with roosters cackling in every direction. I picked out a rooster heading straight away and dumped him at about 25 yards, then swung hard to my right (there were other hunters beyond most of the birds heading across the field) and hammered another rooster flying hard towards tree cover.
Parker retrieved the first bird and then dropped it 5 feet in front of me as he spun around to give a not-so-friendly greeting to a Chesapeake retriever that had broke loose from her owners control. She quickly realized that retrieving this particular bird might be more difficult then she had first anticipated, and headed back to her master.
The second bird had dropped somewhere in the cattails, and with all the fresh bird scent it took Parker a few minutes, and some coaxing, to find it.
10 minutes of hunting, 2 seconds of shooting, and opening day for pheasants was over. Not a bad way to start the season.
Having had such good luck in the morning, I decided to accept a friends invitation to see if we could pick up some snow geese, pass shooting them at the end of a nearby reservoir.
We headed out at 4pm and were sitting in the grass waiting for the geese to head out for their evening feed by 5pm.
In a complete reversal from my snappy shooting in the morning, I had a hell of a time hitting those geese. I do not know if they fly faster or slower then Canada's, but man, what a disaster. Two dozen shells later, found me with a whopping 2 geese.
Then, to top it off, I dropped a nice greenhead that landed out on the ice, about 30 yards from shore. Parker broke ice to 4 yards from the bird and then decided that his course of action may have been a mistake. He then proceeded to stand there, staring at the bird while up to his belly in broken ice and slush.
No amount of encouragement or chastisement would make him fetch that duck. So I called him out. Made him sit on shore. And then proceeded to call him every name I could think of as I waded in my hiking boots and carhart's up to my nuts through the icy cold water, you know due to the ice, out to the duck and back.
As soon as I got back to shore I stuffed the bird in my vest, not allowing Parker to even sniff it. I was sympathetic, eventually, as that ice sure hurt my knees trying to break through it.
Sorry, no pics of my soaking, freezing self.
Anyone else having luck on pheasants?
