Snow BirdsBy Perry Thorvig
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We know that late season pheasants are smart compared to the early
season birds. We have experienced the change in pheasant
behavior between the early and late season in past years. But,
we got our butts kicked by those gaudy flyers after Thanksgiving
in 2003. We again traveled to Chuck Gosen’s place in Bismarck. I, Jerry Vandelac, Ken Ziegler, and his 10 week German shorthair, Donner, made
the six and a half hour trip. Little Donny was just along for
the ride. He was too little to get out there and beat the bush
this year. But, he got a good whiff of pheasant scent when we
got home each night. He’ll be ready for next year. By noon on Friday, the weather was pretty good for a late
November day. The temperature was in the 20’s, with stinging
winds and a sunny sky. The snowcover was spotty. In some places,
the farm fields were completely exposed. The light CRP cover had
three inches of snow. In some places, it was deeper because of
drifting. Some of the Minimum Maintenance Roads were heavily
drifted, though passable with a high clearance truck and four
wheel drive. We were ready to make our first push by noon on Friday. We
sent two walkers down the abandoned railroad grade and the other
two blocked. We didn’t have a chance. We blockers could see our
two partners walking down the half-mile stretch of old grade and
the pheasants bailing out at least a hundred yards ahead. And,
we blockers had too much space to cover to make an effective
block. We then drove the five miles over to Gary’s and tried the
abandoned farm place across the road from Gary’s place. The
light, crusty snow revealed very few pheasant tracks in the
shelterbelts surrounding the farm. It was not looking good. After coming up empty there, we sent two guys up the driveway
at Gary’s to post for the two that would be walking through the
shelterbelt into the south wind. Chuck and I had just placed our
first steps on the green farm yard when pheasants were heard
flushing from the sunny south side of the shelterbelt about 50
yards away. Damn! About 25 birds were then seen passing a break
in the shelterbelt headed east into the neighbors CRP about 200
yards away. A few birds were flushed in the shelterbelt push.
But, it was clear that the majority of the birds had escaped
when we drove into the farmyard. An inspection of the outside
edge of the east and south sides of the shelterbelt around the
place revealed a multitude of pheasant tracks. They loved that
place. But, how do hunters get at them? We then hit the road to see what we could find in the area.
We saw a few concentrations of birds here and there. It seemed
that when we saw one, we saw 20. And, they were not letting us
get close to them. And, so it went for the last two hours before
sunset. We got a few birds that day and had located many more.
The plan was good. The execution was terrible. Our sneak was pretty pathetic. We were three guys in blaze
orange not shielded from the east edge of the shelterbelt by any
hills or vegetation. As we “sneaked” along the fence line
walking south from the road that bordered the north edge of the
property, the pheasants lounging along the east side of the
shelterbelt spotted us immediately. They didn’t run back into
the shelterbelt. Instead, they began bailing out as we got
within a 100 yards of them. In the meantime, Chuck had driven halfway up the driveway to
the west and began walking toward the farmyard. He was too
early. We weren’t in the appropriate position to intercept the
birds as they flew for safety in the CRP. Much to Chuck’s
surprise, many birds were right in the middle of the farmyard
basking in the warm 45-degree sunshine. Those birds began to
head for the CRP. We got a couple of 75-yard shots, but that was
it. I don’t know that I would have been able to hit one of those
fast flying birds anyway. They were really moving as they
crossed the fence line. Foiled again! We lounged in the farmyard out of the wind and
ate our lunch. We were about out of ideas on how to get these
wily December birds. We headed for the thick shelterbelt on the
west side of the driveway after lunch. It never fails! We had only begun our push when we jumped
three roosters that had not escaped with the rest of the flock.
These three had held tight and watched us eat lunch just a 100
yards away. We only got one of the three that flushed. We then hit the road for one of our favorite spots where we
had seen a lot of birds on Friday. Boy, did we find them in the
early afternoon. There were birds out eating in very light cover
right next to the roads. One area revealed the mother lode.
Pheasants pecked away right of the road and also 400 yards deep
into the field. A quick scan of the posting signs in the area
revealed that the picked cornfield was not posted. Two nice
little shelterbelts ran right through the cornfield. Skittish,
birds started flying out of the cornfield for the adjacent CRP
as soon as we stopped the car. We headed for the shelterbelts
hoping a few birds had decided to hide there rather than fly for
the CRP. Fortunately for us, a few had. We got some good
shooting out of the shelterbelts and a few birds, but we should
have shot a lot better. Our shooting stunk! We then scouted some new territory and wound up two miles
north of the cornfield. Here the birds were running all over a
pasture and sitting on top of the hay bales laughing at us. We
got permission to hunt this area. It was teaming with birds.
Three of us put on a good push and dislodged many birds. Again,
our poster had gone too far to the east and missed an
opportunity at birds pouring out of the end of a shelterbelt.
However, most of the birds had not flown past where Chuck was
going to block and might be intercepted as we pushed on along a
lake shore with good cover on the edge. Many hens were uprooted
as we moved toward Chuck. Then the roosters started flushing
beyond our range. Now, Chuck started to unload at the fast
flyers. Most of them headed out over the lake and the ice below
trying to cut the corner to the adjacent field. We all agreed
that if Chuck downed any birds, they would be out on the ice.
Sure enough, Kenny, our lightest guy had to make his way out
onto the thin lake ice to make the retrieve. We made our last pass of the day in a posted shelterbelt
about 100 yards off a main road. The landowner in the nearby
house gave us permission to hunt the shelterbelt. Kenny and
Jerry pushed as Chuck and I went down to post. Chuck and I got
some shooting at the end of the shelterbelt while Ken and Jerry
were diverted into some nearby small sloughs. We waited a long
time for those two to complete their walk of the shelterbelt. As
they neared us, more birds began to take flight from the edges
of the shelterbelt. One of our party (the guy who does all the
trap shooting) missed two birds that were very easy shots. It
was boom-boom-boom-nothing. He did this twice in 15 yards. I
laughed, but he was totally exasperated at what had transpired
that day. He couldn’t believe he had missed those two birds. It was then that I saw something that I have only seen on a
golf course. (One time, I threw my putter over the out of bounds
fence out onto the adjacent freeway right away. I never found it
after I regained my senses.) First I heard the obligatory, “What
the hell is wrong with this x?xx?iigduujg gun?” Then the empty
shotgun was launched forward like a two hand push shot. The snow
flew as the gun bounced and came to rest five feet in front of
the hunter. The gun was retrieved by the hunter and a few more
choice words were uttered in the quiet late afternoon. Geez, I
laughed my butt off and thought I was on the golf course.
After a couple of more runs that morning, we parted ways with Chuck. He
headed for Bismarck. We headed back to the Twin Cities. Our two
five day hunting periods were over for another year. Kenny and
Donner fell asleep in the back seat very soon. Jerry and I rode
along without saying anything. The “driving-home-malaise” had
settled in. We were also thinking about how to outsmart those
birds next year. Forty miles down the road I broke the silence and asked
Jerry, “You figured it out yet?” “Parachutes,” was the short
reply. No more was said for another forty miles. Six hours later
we got home and still had not figured out how to get those late
season birds. I guess pheasant hunting is like golf. Even though it can be
terribly frustrating, you gotta keep on trying or you’re not
going to get any better. It’s that one good shot that keeps you
coming back next time. Parachutes? Hmmm. That might work. Anybody got a plane we can borrow? |
