It was a fairly nice day today, just above freezing. With nothing pressing to do around the house I headed out for some birds. The snow's just about all gone here and I thought the birds might be out gravelling up on the trails and taking advantage of any last chance greenery. September, October and early November had been great for ruffs but I've only seen one bird since the snow came about three weeks ago.
I made a coffee and headed out to a trail that's been good to me in the past. It's an area that has motorized vehicle restrictions so the traffic is slow. I've seen footprints but never met another person. I see far more bear sign than people sign. My best day this year I flushed 24 unique birds on the way in, sometimes more than one flush per bird and flushed another 12 on the way out, though I'd suspect they were mostly repeats. It's about a 2 1/2 hour walk round trip, in and out. I've flushed birds parking at the trail head and literally on the last ten feet of the trail. As a bonus, the trail has a huge crop of shaggy manes in the fall which are great pan fried in butter with a fresh bird or two.
Nearing my spot I met bird #1 on the road. He flushed into some thick cedars before I stopped the car. I'd normally let it go but as I hadn't seen a bird in several weeks I decided to follow up. I headed past him, circling into the bush hoping to cut him off. I stopped to GPS mark a nice cedar burl, which aren't nearly as common as the black spruce burls that I see quite often around here. Looping around, low and slow I looked for movement and listened for the tell tale rustle of a bird scampering though the underbrush. A bit of movement caught my eye though the cedars. It was him. 25 yards out he walked, half strutting into a gap in the branches. Bang goes the 20ga and he's at the pearly gates, flushing his last 50 yard flush to freedom, flying toward the light. With one in the trunk it was already a good day, better at least than my last several outings combined.
I parked at the trail head and set out on foot. I normally walk at a steady pace on open trails, stopping every 20 or 30 yards for 5-10 seconds. About 400 yards in I get a double drum roll. Birds #2 & #3 side by each, 20 yards out heading straight away and low. I aim at the slower of the two and bang, he's cartwheeling out of the sky. Crippled but not done, he's moving a bit too much for my liking so I hit him again on the ground. I haven't had many well hit birds disappear but it has happened and I'd rather not take the chance. His partner is long gone and I head back to the trail, preferring to walk fresh trail than bushwhack.
Half a kilometre down the trail, bird #4 is up, flushing straight away and out of my range in about 2 seconds. My gun half raised, I'm in a good position when #5 is up and banking hard to the left, above an open raspberry bramble. I follow with what I'd like to think was a smooth motion and a well planned shot. He falls out of the sky like a bird shaped rock as bird #6 flushes, making a quick escape to the right. I head over to where #5 fell and see a good mess of feathers in the raspberry bush, but no bird. I walk 10 feet past the feathers expecting that's where he would have landed. Stop, listen, look around in case he's sneaking away or burying himself into the undergrowth. Nothing. No movement or sounds. I get back to the mess of feathers and he's almost directly below them, nestled in to a little hole in the ground, dead as dirt. The feathers in the raspberry bush are where he fell through the bush, not what was blown off from the shot as I thought. I place the bird in my backpack and stop to spread a pinch of ashes. I carry my brother with me on most of my fishing and hunting outings now. We never hunted together as adults though we did keep squirrels off the bird feeder with our pellet gun as kids. We spent our time as adults on different sides of the continent but ended up being very similar despite living very separate lives.
I understand that now, many hunters with faster reflexes, more experience and a bit more reach would be heading home now, packing up their 5 bird limit and calling it a day. At this point I've got three in the bag and I am thrilled that I've managed to knock a couple out of the air. I didn't grow up hunting or shooting and this is my second year of putting in serious hunting hours, with past years represented by only a week or two at best. I'm certainly not a purist for hitting birds only in the air but I do get a lot more satisfaction when I put one down.
With an hour or so of light left and 3 birds in the bag I've got two more to go. Rounding the corner I see a bird shaped stick in the tall grass. The stick sees me too and bird #6 is up and gone. Fortunately for me, his buddy, bird #7 is clucks out of the tall grass, wondering if anyone is going to shoot him. I take aim and he's decided to get out of dodge. Just as quick as he's up I knock him down again and hurry over. He's on his back, wings at his side but not giving that last flush. As I grab him I can tell he's still alive and give him a good wrap with the butt end of my kabar to finish the job.
Looking for my last bird of the day I don't have long to wait. headed down hill #8 is up, cutting to the left. I take a poke but I'm behind it. He arches to the right and puts an easy 200 yards between us, finding safety in the top of a thick stand of cedars well off the trail. Down and around the bend there is a 5 or 6 year old cut to the right which often has birds holding on it's boundaries. This time is no exception. Bird #9 flushes lazily, well out of range, heading into an open but very swampy area. I head past a second cut and up to the trail end. I take a bit of a break before heading back towards the car. I loop up through the second cut. It's got regrowth ranging from 2-5 feet high and has held birds in the past. On cue birds #10, 11 and 12 are up and heading full tilt toward the thick bush line to the left. I take a shot at #12 but I'm behind him again and they all find sanctuary in the cedars. I drop down towards the main trail, gun low, looking at my feet. Having just flushed 3 birds simultaneously from different areas of the cut, it's spent and the light is fading anyhow. Just to prove me wrong, lucky #13, 20 yards out flushes straight down hill, over 3 feet of scrub. I didn't even have time to raise my gun.
All in all it was a great day. Not so cold it called for gloves, not too hot either. I didn't meet anyone else, though I heard a few shots over the hills. The birds were out and the only thing between me and a full limit was my own shooting and readiness, as there was no lack of opportunity. I hope everyone else is finding a good day here or there.
Cheers,
I made a coffee and headed out to a trail that's been good to me in the past. It's an area that has motorized vehicle restrictions so the traffic is slow. I've seen footprints but never met another person. I see far more bear sign than people sign. My best day this year I flushed 24 unique birds on the way in, sometimes more than one flush per bird and flushed another 12 on the way out, though I'd suspect they were mostly repeats. It's about a 2 1/2 hour walk round trip, in and out. I've flushed birds parking at the trail head and literally on the last ten feet of the trail. As a bonus, the trail has a huge crop of shaggy manes in the fall which are great pan fried in butter with a fresh bird or two.
Nearing my spot I met bird #1 on the road. He flushed into some thick cedars before I stopped the car. I'd normally let it go but as I hadn't seen a bird in several weeks I decided to follow up. I headed past him, circling into the bush hoping to cut him off. I stopped to GPS mark a nice cedar burl, which aren't nearly as common as the black spruce burls that I see quite often around here. Looping around, low and slow I looked for movement and listened for the tell tale rustle of a bird scampering though the underbrush. A bit of movement caught my eye though the cedars. It was him. 25 yards out he walked, half strutting into a gap in the branches. Bang goes the 20ga and he's at the pearly gates, flushing his last 50 yard flush to freedom, flying toward the light. With one in the trunk it was already a good day, better at least than my last several outings combined.
I parked at the trail head and set out on foot. I normally walk at a steady pace on open trails, stopping every 20 or 30 yards for 5-10 seconds. About 400 yards in I get a double drum roll. Birds #2 & #3 side by each, 20 yards out heading straight away and low. I aim at the slower of the two and bang, he's cartwheeling out of the sky. Crippled but not done, he's moving a bit too much for my liking so I hit him again on the ground. I haven't had many well hit birds disappear but it has happened and I'd rather not take the chance. His partner is long gone and I head back to the trail, preferring to walk fresh trail than bushwhack.
Half a kilometre down the trail, bird #4 is up, flushing straight away and out of my range in about 2 seconds. My gun half raised, I'm in a good position when #5 is up and banking hard to the left, above an open raspberry bramble. I follow with what I'd like to think was a smooth motion and a well planned shot. He falls out of the sky like a bird shaped rock as bird #6 flushes, making a quick escape to the right. I head over to where #5 fell and see a good mess of feathers in the raspberry bush, but no bird. I walk 10 feet past the feathers expecting that's where he would have landed. Stop, listen, look around in case he's sneaking away or burying himself into the undergrowth. Nothing. No movement or sounds. I get back to the mess of feathers and he's almost directly below them, nestled in to a little hole in the ground, dead as dirt. The feathers in the raspberry bush are where he fell through the bush, not what was blown off from the shot as I thought. I place the bird in my backpack and stop to spread a pinch of ashes. I carry my brother with me on most of my fishing and hunting outings now. We never hunted together as adults though we did keep squirrels off the bird feeder with our pellet gun as kids. We spent our time as adults on different sides of the continent but ended up being very similar despite living very separate lives.
I understand that now, many hunters with faster reflexes, more experience and a bit more reach would be heading home now, packing up their 5 bird limit and calling it a day. At this point I've got three in the bag and I am thrilled that I've managed to knock a couple out of the air. I didn't grow up hunting or shooting and this is my second year of putting in serious hunting hours, with past years represented by only a week or two at best. I'm certainly not a purist for hitting birds only in the air but I do get a lot more satisfaction when I put one down.
With an hour or so of light left and 3 birds in the bag I've got two more to go. Rounding the corner I see a bird shaped stick in the tall grass. The stick sees me too and bird #6 is up and gone. Fortunately for me, his buddy, bird #7 is clucks out of the tall grass, wondering if anyone is going to shoot him. I take aim and he's decided to get out of dodge. Just as quick as he's up I knock him down again and hurry over. He's on his back, wings at his side but not giving that last flush. As I grab him I can tell he's still alive and give him a good wrap with the butt end of my kabar to finish the job.
Looking for my last bird of the day I don't have long to wait. headed down hill #8 is up, cutting to the left. I take a poke but I'm behind it. He arches to the right and puts an easy 200 yards between us, finding safety in the top of a thick stand of cedars well off the trail. Down and around the bend there is a 5 or 6 year old cut to the right which often has birds holding on it's boundaries. This time is no exception. Bird #9 flushes lazily, well out of range, heading into an open but very swampy area. I head past a second cut and up to the trail end. I take a bit of a break before heading back towards the car. I loop up through the second cut. It's got regrowth ranging from 2-5 feet high and has held birds in the past. On cue birds #10, 11 and 12 are up and heading full tilt toward the thick bush line to the left. I take a shot at #12 but I'm behind him again and they all find sanctuary in the cedars. I drop down towards the main trail, gun low, looking at my feet. Having just flushed 3 birds simultaneously from different areas of the cut, it's spent and the light is fading anyhow. Just to prove me wrong, lucky #13, 20 yards out flushes straight down hill, over 3 feet of scrub. I didn't even have time to raise my gun.
All in all it was a great day. Not so cold it called for gloves, not too hot either. I didn't meet anyone else, though I heard a few shots over the hills. The birds were out and the only thing between me and a full limit was my own shooting and readiness, as there was no lack of opportunity. I hope everyone else is finding a good day here or there.
Cheers,
