Hunting

In mid afternoon, after the four, plus, hour drive from Houston, Layla, and I pulled up at the house at our lease in McCulloch County, Texas. We had “snuck” away early from our jobs and, as expected, were the only ones there that day.  All of our gang would be up the next day.

We changed from our business clothes, slipped into jeans and camo shirts and along with Gus, our Brittany spaniel, happily trotting beside us, quickly headed out to the “secret” stock tank.  On an earlier trip up I had found a spring fed stock tank tucked behind a butte, or small mesa, and way off the beaten path.
 
The "secret" tank lies in the oak trees, just below the saddle in the two hills.

About an hour before sunset, the mourning doves started coming into the water. Our set up was ideal. The tank had a rocky, gravelly bank all around, a couple of dead mesquites at one end and several live mesquites at the other end that we used for shade and concealment.

The doves came in singularly and in groups and were met with our bam, bam, bamming and soon we had neared our limits. It was great sport, and a lot of fun, watching Gus retrieve the birds that fell into the water.

Gus, pictured in one of his dryer moments.

Finally he rebelled. As I knocked another one down into the water, Gus walked over beside me and shook himself vigorously, liberally dousing me, and plopped down beside my foot. “Fetch him up Gus,” I commanded with no response. “Gus, fetch the bird,” more forcefully as he looked up at me and rolled over on his back!  He was “done” for the day!

Trying to get Layla to retrieve the last bird for me, she declined also. It was left for me to either jump in, or to chunk rocks and cow patties at the bird to wash it close to the shore.  I chose the former and unceremoniously waded out and picked it up.

So much for delegating! 

In the 1970’s, one of our favorite dove hunting spots in Arizona was south of Phoenix on the St. John’s Indian Reservation.  Back then, a hunting permit was a whopping $5.00 and like $10.00 for a family and this allowed the hunters access to some great mourning dove hunting.  

One of the best spots on the reservation was along an irrigated, grain field, the north edge bordering on thick brush that the doves were using as a roost and rest area.  This particular Saturday afternoon, we, my family and the Schroder’s, had decided to combine a dove hunt along the edge of the brush and, after the hunt, a cook out in a clearing fifty yards in. The afternoon sun was to our right and the birds flew south to north, coming out of the field and flying right over us, providing easy head on, or quartering, shots.  

Head on’s are easy.  Track the bird, cover it with the muzzle, fire and follow through. The bird flies right in to the shot string, usually providing a clean kill, then falls near the shooter.  Not having to walk around much in the sun means a lot on a hot September day in Arizona!  Quartering shots are a little different, just be sure to get the right lead and then bang away!

The afternoon flight was just beginning, scattered shots coming from our four shooters that were strung out along the edge of the field.  On my first shot, a quartering one, I knocked down a dove that was just loafing along, not flying anywhere near max speed, but soon, with all the shooting the birds picked up their pace considerably!

With the doves pouring over us, we kept banging away.  Before long, with the temp over a hundred, combining this with all of our shooting, our barrels started heating up.  Just load up and keep shooting, but don’t touch the hot part.  
One bird away from my limit, I looked up and here came one heading right over me, an easy head on shot.  Tracking the bird and firing, puff, a clean hit and the bird rocketed straight for my chest.  Holding my shotgun with my right hand and holding up my left, I was going to be real cool and catch this one, one handed, but at the last moment the dove gained a little lift rising over my outstretched hand and smacked me right between the eyes, knocking me over!

The force of four ounces traveling at, I guess, 35 MPH, applied right between my eyes, was a wallop.  Getting up and looking through my broken shooting glasses, covered with mine and the dove’s blood, I saw that, besides being shot, the bird had a broken neck.  However, the dove got his revenge, but $100.00 later for a new pair of shooting glasses, I wasn’t to be deterred, and soon, my next free afternoon found me back on the reservation.

After cleaning the birds, we washed up, grilled the steaks and along with green chilies and onions had almost a feast.  After dinner, Jake looked over at me and, with a straight face, asked, “Beech, you went down real easy, think you have a “glass” forehead?

When this post pops up on my blog, Mickey Donahoo and I will be out dove hunting at a friends place in San Saba.  Dove season opens up at sunrise on September 1 and we’ll be out there to welcome the new season in!

Years ago, the new season opening meant mourning doves and plenty of them, but over the last twenty years, white wing doves have migrated up from the Rio Grande Valley and Mexico and can be found almost all over our State.  Something new has also been added to the mix, European collared doves, or ring necks.  In the 1970’s they were shipped from Europe to the Bahamas and there, for some reason, the dealer released them all and they made the flight over to Florida and now, are populating our Country. These big birds, almost pigeon size, have taken over a lot of mourning and white wing dove habitat and are considered a nuisance, with no closed season in Texas.  However, they cook up just like mourners or white wings and are excellent table fare!

The picture of a white wing and ring neck dove shows the size of each.  In San Saba, today, we’ll be going after all three varieties, but experience from past hunts says that white wings will make up most of our bag.

On last Thursday, July 22, I was contacted by the folks at The Big Wild Radio Program, currently airing on 22 stations in the upper, mid west, asking if I would do an 8 minute interview, Friday, on froggin’.  After reading my September 17,2009 post on froggin’, "What's It Called", Gundy and Johnny V, hosts of the program, contacted me on Friday and taped an 8 minute segment about the sport.

The segment will air on July 31 and will be posted on The Big Wild Radio Program’s blog on August 2 and will cover shooting, gigging, grabbing, cleaning, recipes and eatin’ of frog legs.  Not having a list of the radio stations, it would be best to check out their blog.

Radio personality, hmmm?

Finally, Wednesday afternoon, getting out to go hunt a gobbler, no luck this time, but after I had been in my hide for about thirty minutes, out walked a full size, turkey hen.  This was a big one, not the hens that I saw on Sunday afternoon, they were young ones, jakettes, or properly, jennies.

The big hen saw the two, hen decoys that I had put out and made a bee line for them.  Right away I started snapping pictures of her. 

None turned out except for this one, where she was looking in my direction, probably trying to figure what was that thing in the creek bottom, behind the cedar tree?  The hen was twelve feet from me when I got this "shot"!

Having finished my taxes, when this posts, I'll be in a different "hide" trying to lure in a gobbler.

Hope springs eternal!

As the sun was coming up on Saturday morning, April 3, I was tucked into a “hide” along a creek where last month I’d spotted turkeys roosting in the trees along the same creek.  There had been nine birds but it was too far to make out their sexual proclivities, probably hens?

This morning, to whet the big birds competitive spirit I was using two decoys, a gobbler and a hen.  Maybe this would draw out a suitor?   No luck and by 9:30 AM the sun was up good and in my eyes so I called it quits.

Saturday afternoon I was in another hide, in a different creek bottom, behind a cedar tree, practically invisible.  One hour into my hunt, around 6:30 PM, out walked two hens.  They looked at my two decoys and couldn’t figure what was going on.  Not being able to unlimber my camera, I froze, they fed along and walked right between the decoys and me.  Holding my breath the two hens moseyed along to within fifteen feet.  I didn’t move anything, even squinted my eyes, both birds looked right at me and just kept moseying!  Probably if I had even blinked, both of them would have been long gone!  Exciting, but no meat on the table.

Sunday, being Easter was a no hunting day, Layla and I had to attend a funeral on Monday morning and now, income taxes have reared their ugly head, so it’ll be hit and miss on the turkeys for the next two or three days.

But still, hope springs eternal.

Last year, a terrible drought stricken spring led to a poor turkey season, but two days before spring season opened, I “shot” these pictures of a nice, gobbler that responded to my calling.  My “hide” was a good one, he came within ten feet of me and these were the best shots” that I had all season.

However, this morning at sun up, the 2010 spring turkey season opens in Mills County, Texas.  The big, birds have been moving around and, during my scouts, I’ve heard scattered gobbling.  It looks like this year the State has gotten it right, timing the opening day with the breeding season.

As this is posted, with two decoys out, I’ll be scrooched into a hide along a creek on the southeast side of my ranch.  Turkeys have been roosting along this creek and maybe today I will entice a gobbler?

Hope springs eternal!

Last Friday and Saturday morning, rather than sleeping in, I greeted the sun peeking over the horizon.  Each time I was in a different spot trying to pinpoint turkey movement.  Friday, when the sun was half up, I heard one gobble, then on Saturday after blasting a “come here call” on my crow call, another one (probably) sounded off.  Both birds were along a creek south of my property.

Later Friday morning, nervously, a deer walked out, constantly looking behind it.  

Soon, here came the family group, eight all told, but they caught me moving the camera and jumped back into the thick stuff!  It was almost like a deer circus!

Saturday morning, after a couple of “blows” on the crow call, a deer walked across an opening and went on its way, I thought.

Then two cows walked by and I got this “shot” of them.

Thinking that with all the movement around my spot, why not really crank down on the predator call and see what happens.  After a dozen or more squeals, I noticed movement to my front, slipped the safety off of my twelve gauge, slowly raised the shotgun and what did see, but the yearling, deer peeping around a cedar tree.  It continued peeping until I tried to get a picture of it, then it crossed an opening and was gone!

At least these two gobblers should stay in our area for the nest week.