Wingshooting (24)
After all, shotguns are designed to shoot upland birds and waterfowl. And clays originated as practice sports to keep your eyes and reflexes sharp for the real thing.
Wingshooting is rich in tradition and utility -- giving the sport a timeless quality. Whether it’s a driven shoot in Scotland, a train safari in Africa or hiking the plains of South Dakota, wingshooting takes you back to a more genteel and aristocratic age.
Mark time on the shotgun continuum and you’ll also see that the legendary craftsmen came of age with guns built to put game birds on the table.
Being out in the heather with your compatriots as the birds come flying toward you, and raise your shotgun to your shoulder…well that is what awaits you here. In this section you will find…
- Upland shooting
- Waterfowl shooting
- Popular birds
- Pigeons
- Ducks
- Geese
- Grouse
- Pheasant
- Quail
- Ammo
- Special clothes
- Recipes
- Destinations
- Equipment
- Blinds
- Calls
- Decoys
- Boats
- Places to shoot
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Irwin Greenstein, Publisher
Most fantasies are better than the actual experience. Occasionally the opposite is true, a well known fact of hunters around Maryland.
Waterfowlers dream of someday hunting the Eastern Shore. Magazine articles during my youth described hunting this coveted area for sea ducks, Canada geese and Atlantic brant, a mystery goose, to hunters living away from coastal areas. Most references I found in books or magazines spoke of brant blundering in during sea duck hunts.
A Maryland waterfowl biologist once told me, “Mainly hunters from other places hunt brant, only guides from here chase this bird and always with clients. Most of us who live here have never found a way to make that damned goose taste good, but the damned things are fun to hunt.”
I wondered how many brant were actually prepared for dining these days, considering this short-winged goose was sold in large numbers to restaurants during the dark market hunting era. No doubt most today are sent to the taxidermist and fixings are saved for the more succulent Canada geese.
Locals claim to not eat them and perhaps only non-residents would attempt any type of dining preparation, no doubt with less than desirable results. Yet, early outdoor writers left a mystique about the Atlantic brant that made many of us yearn to learn more.
My chance to hunt Atlantic brant came with an invitation from my friend, Christina Holden, a Maryland resident. We loaded gear in a tender boat on a chilly day when most stayed indoors.
Cold air immediately reddened our faces while Jeffrey Coats, a superb Eastern Shore guide turned his camouflaged boat into Chincoteague Bay. Bags of brant decoys made comfortable seats. A brisk January breeze tried to cut though my best rain suit that was backed by some of the finest cold-weather undergarments. I spent many years being cold in my youth and plan to stay warm during the second half of my life.
We quickly cleared the small harbor and Coats kicked the big engine in high gear. The boat’s momentum slipping through shallow bay water occasionally flushed a sprinkling of sea ducks into flight and provided ample time for me to reflect on the area’s remarkable waterfowl history.
I had little trouble visualizing hunters digging holes to plant sink boxes on sandy or mud beaches. A gaggle of live decoys would be placed out in front to quack or honk their heads off at passing flocks that circled and then settled in for an easy harvest, a practice outlawed since 1935.
My eyes focused on a distant black line on the bay’s surface proving to be surf scoter, a much sought after sea duck. Hunters once floated close to flocks in boats with bow mounted cannons. They set off their battery of flying shrapnel into large numbers of ducks or geese.
I thanked God that those times ended before most waterfowl become extinct. Waterfowling history adds interest to this beautiful area in a day before good camouflage and boats with huge motors. Many hunters of that era were expert callers who took large numbers of ducks and geese compared to our modern daily limits.
My daydream ended when Coats cut his outboard motor and started drifting toward a shallow area alongside an uninhabited strip of land. We set out bags of brant decoys hand carved by the talented guide and numerous V-boards, each holding three or four brant silhouettes. I wondered if the cautious geese would visit our spot in this vast area of water. I was assured that a good set of decoys over underwater eel grass and sea lettuce would draw the lines of brant.
I closed my eyes and remembered the words written in 1905, “A Close Call,” by Alexander Hunter.
“But he may sit in a land blind during the whole winter and never see a brant hovering over the decoys, for that wary game bird gives a wide berth to marsh, cape, island or mainland and feeds only in the open a half mile or more from shore. In the early morning and late evening they ride the waters in vast numbers and are quick to take flight at the sight of any craft.”
I soon understood the mystery, our query presented a challenge. Coats was said to be the best living guide for brant, so chances were good that primer caps would soon be exploded, sending steel shot at a rare goose—at least for a hunter from the Heartland. Perhaps a mature bird would become a trophy for my office wall.
Coats set out the last decoys and V-boards, taking a final glance. He was satisfied that everything looked natural before settling down in the big boat. Camouflage netting over the boat’s top and sides made us less visible to the sharp-eyed birds we planned to hoodwink.
“I use the V-boards for brant because they are visible longer distances than decoys,” Coats explained. Birds sometime come straight in from long distances because they can see other birds. The decoys are needed when birds are closer.”
I thought about what he said while peeking through a slit in the camouflaged canvas. An hour later a flock pushed towards us and Coats started making brant sounds on his call, several high-pitched BRRRRRR’s. They flew straight in and low over the surface, a big difference from Canada geese that will circle several times. Holden stood up and dropped her first brant while I missed—three times.
Damn, missed my first opportunity to shoot a brant I thought. Hope I get another chance.
We stood up and watched as Coat’s black lab, Poacher reached the brant. The eager dog became tangled on two decoy ropes connected to the heavy V-boards while swimming in. Coats motioned the dog to swim back and in different directions until he was freed. I have seldom witnessed better communication between a dog and his owner.
Holden limited out with a second bird on the next pass of brant while my birds continued flying. I glanced down at her shell box, #3 steel shot. I had been shooting BB’s, an old habit from Canada goose hunting. She slipped me some #3’s that I eagerly loaded in my 870 Wingmaster pump 12 gauge with a new surge of hope.
Soon three brant pushed along the shoreline toward our decoys and not over five feet above the surface. I stood up and swung on the first brant, squeezed the trigger and dropped him. The second shot missed, but the third shot dropped the lead goose. I limited out in 30 seconds after changing to smaller shot that offered more pattern.
Coats decided to try for a limit while we visited in the comfortable boat. Camouflaged canvas on the side rose up to hide us from the sharp-eyed brant that do not seem wary like Canada geese. They were smart enough to move down the shoreline to a cove where we watched several hundred birds pass our set to join live birds, ignoring Coat’s calling. Several flew over for a look, but kept pushing on to their live comrades.
“Hard to compete with live birds,” Coats said. “In the evening we’ll start seeing singles and small groups of brant. For now they’re content to sit.”
Two brant left the group a half hour later and bored in towards our set. They did not circle, but came straight in. Coats didn’t call, the brant knew where they wanted to go. They quickly swung over our decoys flying side by side and Coats fired, dropping both with one shot. Poacher swam out and brought in both geese that laid stone dead on the surface.
“That’s the key, save ammunition,” Coats said while we rolled our eyes.
That evening we dined at the Crab Alley Restaurant, in West Ocean City, Maryland. I took a big bite of Crab Imperial, a white sauce with big chunks of fresh crab meat poured over a flounder fillet. I should have enjoyed the meal more, but I couldn’t stop thinking about the brant flying towards our decoys, getting bigger and bigger until they set their wings and hung out like piñatas on a string. I would see the same sight while trying to sleep that night. I didn’t sleep much knowing that we were hunting the following morning.
George Zahradka, of Middle River, Maryland. and Wayne Radcliffe, of Glen Arm, Maryland., two veteran Eastern Shore hunters, set out several dozen brant decoys and V-boards on a small island the following morning before daylight. The grass-covered isle sat directly in sight of where we had hunted the evening before. This time, we hunted on the island, in camouflage that was darker colored than our surroundings. Holden leaned against a supply pack while I positioned against an old abandoned crab trap cushioned with decoy bags.
“The key is staying perfectly still,” Zahradka said. “We should pick up singles and small groups of brants, maybe a couple of ducks.”
Soon a dark shape winged towards our decoy set. Holden, after out shooting me for two days and no doubt feeling sorry for the old man whispered, “You take this one.”
I watched the brant flying in a straight line before executing a sharp right turn and landing in the decoys. I leaned up and spooked the brant to flight. He had barely lifted off when a load of #3 steel shot dropped him back down among the decoys.
“If you had missed, I had your back,” the ornery Holden said. “I was on him too, good thing you didn’t miss.”
“Good start,” Zahradka said. “There should be more.”
His prophesy proved to be correct as a long string of at least 50 birds flew down across the bay and straight towards our set. Three birds flew lower than the rest and dropped down for a closer look at our decoys. Holden had the shot and swung on the last bird, squeezed her trigger and dropped the mature brant among the decoys.
The morning brought more strings of brant flying across the channel. Some continued on to another destination while others turned and dropped down to investigate our decoys that spread out a hundred yards. Several dropped into the convenient opening for easy shots. Holden and I limited out on brant by noon and regretfully called it a day when so many sea ducks were in the area. I had a flight to catch.
Hours later I sat on a jet soaring back to Kansas, my wife and home. Visions of long strings of brant turning towards our decoys clouded my thoughts and I realized why writers of the past passionately described brant when so many other desirable table-fare fowl flooded the Eastern Shore. My waterfowl biologist friend had said it all, “The damned things are just fun to hunt.”
Kenneth L. Kieser is a veteran outdoor writer of more than 25 years and author of the western novel “Ride the Trail of Death” published by La Frontera Publishing. You can contact him at letters@shotgunlife.com.
For more information about hunting with Capt. Jeffery Coats, call (410) 410-937-4034 or email him at jeff@pitbosswaterfowl.com and you can check his web site at: www.pitbosswaterfowl.com.
For more information about hunting waterfowl in Maryland, contact the Maryland Department of Natural Resources at: 410-260-8540 or check their web site at: www.dnr.maryland.gov.
I know that if you want to hunt wild and hard to find pheasants in Montana you have one of two choices, either cold weather or very cold weather, and lots of hard hunting which means a bunch of miles on foot.
So when my hunting partner, Mark, asked me to join him and his friend Mike to hunt for a couple of days in Northern Montana, I thought about what I knew the conditions would be like, and in spite of that knowledge I jumped at the chance.
Mark described the place we would be hunting as a private ranch of some 70,000 acres that Mike had permission to hunt on and we would also have the ranch bunkhouse to ourselves for accommodations. On top of all of this I would be hunting with Mark’s amazing Black Lab, Puck, which was enough reason to go by itself.
The following weekend we loaded all of our gear into Mark’s 4x4 Dodge and headed east on I-90 with Puck in the back in his crate very content knowing birds were in his future. When packing my gear I was careful to make sure I had enough cold weather gear to get me through the weekend without frostbite, and more than one change of outerwear as the chances of getting wet were pretty good this time of year.
The list always includes the long johns, bibs and plenty of socks. My camo duck hunting cold weather coat has a liner along with gloves that go well past the wrist for reaching into cold water and being able to use your hands afterwards. I figured I had better take it all with me just in case.
Fortunately, having bird hunted the southern plantations of the USA I own a couple different size vests and these days the 2X does fit over my outerwear so I grabbed it as well. When Mark came to pick me up he accused me of packing for two weeks instead of two days. I hate being cold was all I could say.
The trip was pretty normal until we reached a small town in Montana (name escapes me) where the highway to our destination turns north. As we came around the bend we were staring at a vertical mountain face within a few feet from the road. Right up tight against the face stood seven Big Horn sheep, a very nice ram and his harem. As we approached Mark pulled over so we could get a good look and it became clear they were no strangers to traffic as they just looked at us while we looked at them and were not the least bit concerned.
Their demeanor didn’t matter to us as the opportunity to see these magnificent creatures up close was a bonus to the trip. I have seen them before through binoculars but never six feet away. Since we were starting to tie up traffic, we needed to move on and as we did I thought to myself that in the future I most likely would have no interest in hunting sheep, except with my camera. It was precisely at that moment I realized my camera gear was in the back of the rig.
As we headed north into Montana we were pleasantly surprised at the weather being so unusually warm and the discussion turned to how this weather would affect the bird behavior. I had my suspicions that if it didn’t cool off we would be hard put to find any birds in the usual places and exhibiting the normal behavior.
We arrived at the ranch on schedule and met up with Mike. It had been a long day so we got comfortable and discussed the plan for the next day of bird hunting. Mike’s plan was to go to an area a couple of miles from the ranch house and work some high grass draws which also had timber and some heavy cover. He had hunted this area before with good success and believed it would be a good first day. This ranch offers all the ingredients for good bird hunting, plenty of cover, good feed plus fresh and accessible water. Pheasants prefer all three within a short distance and the PN, as this land was called, provided it all everywhere.
No one could tell me what PN stood for but in Montana land parcels have some strange names. Normally I would share where we were but in this case we were on private land. I can tell you we were north of Great Falls and without Mike I could never find it again.
The next morning we were surprised the weather had turned even warmer, in the sixties. We were all in heavy camo and vests with winter boots and that was not going to work. Clearly, by noon it would be in the seventies and this was pretty much unheard of in November in Montana.
Nevertheless, we headed to the trucks to make our way to the area Mike wanted to start in. The first hour was tough going, climbing up and over rocky draws and hills, through heavy brush trying to push up some birds. The dogs were working hard but nothing was happening. We stopped often to water the dogs and ourselves. Layer by layer as the sweat was soaking our clothes we shed our gear. I asked Mark if we made a wrong turn in Idaho and went south to the desert. This is just plain strange.
Somewhere around ten o’clock I was dripping wet and was down to a tee shirt and vest. I had never bird hunted in these conditions before and the terrain along with the hot weather was making this trip a tough go. Here we are sweating profusely, climbing over downed trees, swampy creek bottoms and still no birds and you have some pretty unhappy hunters.
This is certainly not like hunting the nice flat straight rows of milo and sorgum of South Dakota or Kansas or even Georgia. This is tough bird hunting and by now we are stubbornly determined to keep going until we found some success.
Around eleven o’clock our stomachs told us we need to refuel, and the dogs were looking pretty beat as well. The way back to the truck was through some deep and heavy brush along a full creek bed, which under any normal circumstances would have held many birds, except of course today. I sent Puck into the brush along the creek and as always he was up to the task. Still nothing! I even thought he gave me a sideways look, but I am sure it was my imagination.
It was unanimously decided that it was time to head back for lunch, and for the afternoon hunt we would head up to high country and find some sharpies and if lucky maybe a few Hungarian Partridge.
As we turned the last corner taking us back to the house, Mike’s truck in front of us came to a screeching halt. Mike jumped out of his truck, gun in hand and started shooting at the huge hay rounders stacked near the back barn.
Mark and I could not figure out what he was doing until we saw a bunch of pheasants taking flight in all directions. Not only were they flying but they were running between the hay rounders (A rounder for you easterners is a huge hay bale in a round wheel shape about eight feet high in all directions.
The dogs were still in their kennels in the truck beds making a racket as they could hear the roosters and the gunshots of course. We are all trying to reload and bring down a few. If anyone saw what was going on I can only imagine that it must have looked like a well-staged Keystone Cops movie.
Remember, we were on our way back to lunch so vests were gone which meant no shells, no hats, boots untied to relieve sweaty feet .Once we realized what was going on and none of us had more than a couple of shells in our pockets we all had to scramble back to the trucks for more.
We let the dogs out of their kennels, but to their dismay and ours most of the birds were gone. The ranch must have sounded like WW III had started. Finally, when our guns were empty and the smoke had cleared we took count and had harvested several nice big birds. In retrospect the challenge had been to make sure we were shooting in the right direction away from the house and each other. Fortunately all of us are experienced and in spite of the chaos we did not put any holes in the barn, the house or each other.
After all of that tough going, sweat and no results it was clear we would have done better had we stayed on the porch. The birds would have come to us, but then it wouldn’t have felt like we earned them I guess. .
The next day, we found another spot for morning pheasants and got a few birds and all in all it was a great hunt. For me three things really stood out on this hunt. The crazy weather of course and a white tail that jumped up a few feet in front of me that took a few years off my life. I have jumped a lot of deer in the woods in years past but never one so close I could almost give her a kiss as she went by me. Last the gunfight at the hay bale corral. Hunters 5 pheasants 0.
Montana is big country and it’s great hunting for all sorts of game. If it wasn’t so far I would go more often, but always go prepared for some tough weather and it can change very quickly to bad just as fast as to good. I am looking forward to my next trip and perhaps it will be a bit more normal but then...maybe not.
The trip home was not as planned. We hit a sudden snowstorm in Idaho and it was at that moment the front 4x4 differential in Mark’s truck went south on us.
We limped over the passes and down I 90 at a snail’s pace and well, suffice it to say it was an appropriate ending for a very strange hunting trip.
Fortunately time takes away some of the sting and we can look back at that trip fondly and even jokingly as Mark still has the Dodge even though he hates it, He calls it his money pit. I told Mark that next time at the PN maybe I will stay on the porch.
Al Hague is an avid outdoorsman and published author as well as outdoor photographer. Al resides and hunts mostly in the western half of the US and Canada. His photos can also be seen on http://www.shutterpoint.com and http://www.theartshop.com.
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Hunting Grouse With the Stealth Approach
Written by Jennifer L.S. PearsallThe ruffed grouse is to the forest what pheasants are to the grasslands. But unlike the flashier, bigger plains bird, you can’t bully a grouse around. The “we-got-’em-surrounded” mentality that often works with pheasants – big crowds pushing a section of real estate to pinch birds and force them to flight – won’t get you anywhere in the grouse woods. No, this is one bird that requires finesse.
Like a Circus
I used to hunt with four or five gentlemen every year on some private, long-abandoned logging grounds we had access to in the mountains of West Virginia. It was gorgeous grouse habitat: meadows interspersed by ancient apple orchards and
Our first problem was that there usually were a half-dozen of us. But it wasn’t just the number of human trespassers to this piece of grouse fairyland that was the problem. We also usually had as many dogs between us, and since every one of us carrying a gun was a weekend warrior with a job in the city, after a long drive and a crappy motel stay, every single one of us had to put our dogs out – at the same time. There simply weren’t enough weekends in the season to go around, so leaving a dog on the truck – “I’m not leaving my dog behind!” – wasn’t even a consideration. The result was a circus.
Now, part of my group’s three-ring problem was due to more than just the confusion brought on by a dozen hunters and dogs running amok. The environment played a role in the confusion as well.
I never hunted those mountains when the wind wasn’t howling, and the weather was often just altogether brutal, with stinging drizzle, sleet, pouring rain, and always freezing temperatures (the place wasn’t too subtly named Mount Storm). To hear over the wind and elements as we pushed the ground, we got loud. “Bird! Bird!” one would bellow, as a grouse was gotten up and fired at, the cadence of shouts and gunfire continuing as the birds maneuvered, often unscathed, between all of us and the trees. Our dogs’ beepers and bells only added to the ruckus. Like I said, it was a circus.
Pair Off
Six of us abreast in the typical pheasant-field-push formation often did not much more than push the birds continually ahead of us. And if you were thinking four pointing dogs and a Lab or three must have balanced that out, well, you’d just be wrong. In all, while we never went home empty-handed, we truly had the wrong approach.
Let me make this c
But even had my group insisted on the throng approach, we had another problem that compromised our ratio of trigger pulls to birds bagged. Remember all that shouting and ringing of dog bells and shrieking of whistles I mentioned? That’s a whole lot of excess noise that any grouse in its right little bird mind will flee the country on. See, with grouse, the trick to gun-ready flushes lies somewhere between silence and sounds that will startle – not in a constant din.
You and a friend (I’ll get to the dogs in a minute), working at a leisurely pace through the woods, kicking through dry leaves, snapping twigs, and keeping conversation minimal, will usually encourage the ruffed grouse to hunker down and hold tight. Evolution has taught them that their wonderful plumage is terrific camouflage, if they will just hold still. Well, up to a point, anyway.
Hold too long, and that fox or bobcat padding through the understory is going to pounce. But you know what that fox or bobcat does before he pounces? He gets quiet. He sits back on his haunches or crouches down on his belly, pausing to make sure the energy he’s about to expend will result in a captured meal. It’s in that moment of stillness that a pinned grouse will often opt to exercise his alternate survival skill, which is he’s going to flush.
Hunt grouse like the predators do. Move steadily, but easily, through the cover, keeping noise to just what your brush pants and canvas coat sleeves make as they pass. Walk for a while, then pause. Stop. Stay quiet for a moment, look around, and be ready to shoot. If a grouse is nearby, there’s an excellent chance he’s going to take flight the second you scratch the leaves with your toe as you begin to step forward again.
This minimalist, this stealth approach, is the way to shoot grouse. You are playing to the birds’ known behavior, instincts that have served them well over centuries. And by proceeding in this manner, you are setting yourself up to be best prepared to take the shot when it presents itself. You’ve looked around, can see where between the trees a flushing ruffie is likely to fly, and now have a much better chance of putting a bacon-wrapped grouse breast in the pan instead of seeing just a few tail feathers drifting to ground.
The added beauty to this method is that you don’t even need a dog. But I don’t know a died-in-the-wool grouse hunter who would set forth without one.
Man’s Best Friend
Grouse hunting is the domain of pointing dogs. Setters, pointers, short-hairs, and Brittanies rule the roost here, though having one of those and a flushing dog like a Lab or a cocker or springer along certainly makes a nice day out, too. Most hunters know the key to successful upland hunting with dogs is good dog training, but, in reality, most amateur handlers rarely know what that fully encompasses. My
In addition to the group approach, ours were hunts that seemed to resemble track events. I don’t know whether these guys had been taught this way or if, over their years pursuing grouse had come to believe it was necessary, but their collective approach was to push as much countryside as they could as fast as they could. Even in years I was in relatively good shape, I often huffed and puffed to keep up with them.
A big part of the reason for this mad rush through the hillsides – and aside from their driving belief that it was miles covered that put birds in the bag – was because none of our dogs were finished dogs. (Mea culpa, I’d have to include mine in that mix.)
For a pointing dog to be truly finished, or fully trained, he needs to hold point until the handler orders otherwise. That means for five seconds or five minutes or five hours, whatever it takes.
A finished pointing dog does not crowd the bird, does not creep on his point, and never flushes the bird. Further, he should remain staunch when the bird flushes and the gun is fired. This is what is commonly known as “steady to wing and shot.” Part of this philosophy is a safety issue. If the dog is steady to wing and shot, you not only know where he is, but he will not be leaping into the pellet string if you fire at a low-flying bird.
Another reason to have a steady dog? Grouse don’t usually fly far after flushing. If you move quietly along the flight path, you can often relocate a once-flushed bird some 30 to, say, 100 yards from where he first rose. But when a dog isn’t steady to the wing or flush, there’s a strong probability he’s going to give chase to the bird once it flushes, and that will keep the bird moving further and further ahead. You’ll never get the chance to reflush and shoot again.
Keep this in consideration, too: if your pointing dog won’t remain steady to the flush, he’s probably full of other bad habits, like creeping and crowding, and probably flushing more birds than you can imagine. So what you have with a pointing dog that isn’t finished is a dog you can’t trust out of your sight.
Back on those West Virginia hunts, we rushed – aw, hell, we flat-out ran – to get to our dogs so we could flush the birds before the dogs took matters into their own paws. It didn’t mean our dogs didn’t point, it didn’t mean that they couldn’t find birds, it was just an issue of them not being completely steady.
Of course, this meant that we kept our dogs at pretty close range, too. Lots of amateur handlers never let their pointing dogs range out of sight for exactly the reason I just discussed: they can’t trust their dogs.
But think: are you really finding more birds with a dog you keep under your thumb? Maybe one or two, but really, if you’re going to hunt with a close-working pointing dog on a bird that holds as well as the ruffed grouse, you’d probably kick up just as many without him. The “point” of a pointing dog is to find birds you the hunter are not finding. And for that to happen, you need to let him range. The more ground he’s covering, the more birds he’s finding. It doesn’t mean you don’t want him to close it down a bit in really thick cover, but repeat after me: It is okay to let my pointing dog range out of my sight.
I know, I can hear it already. You’re wondering: how will I know where the dog is if I can’t see him? There are two solutions to this, the electric beeper collar or, my favorite, the traditional cow bell. (And no, I don’t think the sounds of bells or beeper collars flush grouse. Pheasants maybe, sometimes, but not grouse.)
I use a beeper collar often when bird hunting most upland species, especially in more open habitat, because I can hear it from further away and often over high winds. I always use one that functions in both a running mode and a pointing mode so I can tell, generally, what the dog’s doing. But I actually like the bell better for grouse hunting. Here’s why…
The bell is exacting where the beeper collar is generalized. With the beeper, I only know the dog is moving or standing still. And if he’s out of sight, I don’t know if the standing-still beep means he’s on point, taking a drink of water, or peeing on a tree. With the bell, I know all of these things and much, much more, just by the way it rings.
A steady clang? I know he’s working the cover methodically and thoroughly. When the clattering gets a little spastic, I know he’s hot on scent. And just a tiny “tick, tick, tick?” That’s the clanger echoing his breathing, when he’s solid on point – and I can hear this even when I can’t see him, which allows me to get ready to shoot when I do spy him and walk up on the point.
Also, I hear the difference between a dog that’s begun to creep on his point and one that takes a step to balance his body. I also can tell if he’s lost control and charges the flush –
and it doesn’t take a practiced ear to figure this out.
I really like to use a bell in conjunction with an electric collar (on an e-collar-trained dog, of course), because you can make corrections to the dog without having him in your sight. The bell tells you, is he creeping? Give him a little nick to put him back on hold. Hear him charge a flush after being silent on point? Give a jolt to pull him off the pursuit. (All of this, of course, assuming your dog is at least mostly trained and understands this type of correction. You wouldn’t want to do this to a young dog just beginning and turn him off birds, but that’s a subject for a whole separate article.)
The point of the bell is that I can let the dog do the work of finding birds instead of me hiking all over hell and half of
So remember, when it comes to ruffed grouse, a careful, thoughtful, and methodical approach is what brings success with this forest dweller.
Jennifer L.S. Pearsall is a professional outdoor writer, photographer, and editor, who has been a part of the hunting and shooting industries for nearly 20 years. She is an avid clays shooter, hunter and dog trainer. Please visit her blog “Hunting the Truth” at http://huntingthetruth.com.
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Irwin Greenstein, Publisher
If you own a dog, then the following story will be familiar to you. If not, then perhaps it will inspire you, or at the very least make you chuckle a bit.
Prior to my being given the opportunity to meet and develop a relationship with Puck, it had been many years since I had a dog, but most importantly I have never owned a hunting dog. My chosen career path of many years did not lend itself to having a dog as I was transferred often and traveled much.
Over the years I would often read stories about hunters and their dogs as well as see the different levels of field trials and such. I would envy the handlers and their obvious relationship with the dogs and I was equally fascinated with the eagerness, devotion and joy exhibited by these amazing creatures. The skill and intensity with which they performed their tasks was a thrill to see and I could only admire them from a distance. My lifestyle would not be fair to a dog as I did not have the time to devote that he would deserve.
Having grown up back East where bird hunting is not a major pastime I had never even had the opportunity to shoot over a dog of any kind. It would be fair to say that only in the last four years have I become a devotee of wing shooting and all the true pleasures it offers, especially the opportunity to shoot over great dogs of all kinds.
The focus of this story is a very special black lab named Puck. He belongs to a good friend and colleague named Mark who has owned many special labs and hunted over many fine dogs for years. I say this only to point out that I had no part in the training or the development of Puck. In fact, the reverse is true in that he, by his very nature and ability, has taught me much about hunting and working with a dog. It is almost as if Puck acknowledges my inexperience and has allowed me to be his friend in a special bond that a teacher might have with a student.
Puck is a pretty large boy weighing in at roughly 95 pounds and is quite tall. He is regal with a beautiful lab head and intense eyes that when in the field are all business, but when at home are very soft and gentle. As an athlete he could be compared to any superstar whose body is ideal for his chosen sport. As a runner he has a gait like a finely trained horse and as a swimmer his large paws serve him well. His large jaws allow him to grasp multiple birds either on a swim or field retrieve.
On the many occasions he has trapped a bird before it could flush, his soft mouth brings the bird to you unharmed. This gentleness is in direct conflict with his intensity, but his breeding, temperament and training have produced this uncanny combination. He can be, and often is, a bit goofy in that he suffers from separation anxiety. It doesn’t seem to matter where he is or who he is with, he must be close by one of us.
On the occasions that Mark is required to travel on business, Puck will stay with me. He will follow me from room to room and be by my side no matter what I am doing. He truly does not let me out of his sight. The same quirky behavior manifests itself even when at home or in the office with Mark. When at my home he is very comfortable and content to playfully roll around on the floor or sit very quietly at my feet, often lifting his head to check on my whereabouts, or to encourage me to reach down and rub his ears.
Puck is very well-trained for verbal commands as well as hand signals so he is a joy to have around and not a problem of any kind. We do have to Puck proof the house prior to his visit as his non-stop wagging tail has been known to clear a coffee table of its contents. I am sure much of this sounds very familiar to anyone who owns a nice dog and everyone has many stories of their best friend.
Here is where I, a new devotee to the world of hunting dogs, am so amazed at how one dog can have two distinct personalities. I guess since some humans do, why not a dog, especially one with the lineage of Puck. Speaking of lineage, his grandfather, Chug, was the black dog on the label of Black Dog Ale. If I tell you more of his lineage it would sound like I am bragging and that’s not what this story is about. Let us just say he has exceptional breeding which by itself is not the world. There are plenty of mutts everywhere who are also very special and equally important to their masters.
When I pick up the keys to the truck his ears cock forward with excitement, his eyes sparkle, the tail moves life a bullwhip and his feet start dancing. Puck absolutely loves to ride and of course he expects we are heading out to the field or pond to find some birds.
One of the many words he truly recognizes is “birds” and a metamorphosis takes place. Once in the blind or in the field he is all business. Gone is his desire to have his ears rubbed or his demand to be close. His only concern: where are the birds? His constant vigilance to the flights in the sky keep him so focused that until the shot is fired he is in locked position.
My first hunt with Puck was in Montana where I was to discover that this dog can see in multiple directions at once, or so it would seem. His ability to mark down birds in different directions, by different hunters, is uncanny. He never misses a mark and has on more than one occasion retrieved more than one bird at a time. Now I know that much of this is not new to many dog owners and I am sure you appreciate your dog’s abilities as much as I appreciate Puck’s.
I would guess that anyone who owns a lab knows what amazing swimmers they are and how much they love to retrieve, but until you experience a lab launching himself from a blind into the water, until you see him swim fifty yards to bring back the duck, you just never really appreciate their dedication, their desire to please and fulfill there heritage. I am amazed every time out with Puck’s intensity for his job. On a recent waterfowl trip into Canada for a three-day period Puck had at least 75 retrieves. Needless to say at the end of each day he was a pretty tired boy, but he still managed to be ready each morning with equal enthusiasm.
On the last day of our hunt we were hunting on a small pond and had many geese coming in. The pond was about 150 yards across and one of us shot a goose that was only wounded and managed to fly across the pond and deep into the woods. When the time came to pack up and leave, Mark and I took Puck around the pond hoping to put him on the trail of the wounded goose.
I took Puck in the direction I thought was correct and Mark went around the other side. We gave Puck a dead bird command and off he went. I continued behind him at some distance and just as I was about to give up, I could see Puck picking his way through the heavy underbrush and swampy area. Much to my absolute surprise he was carrying a goose which seemed almost as large as he and his legend in my mind was continuing to grow. Now you may say that any good retriever would do the same and that is probably true, but for me it was a new experience to see it happen and to admire a great dog doing what he loves to do.
Last winter Mark and I were hunting pheasant in eastern Washington late in the season. During the night we were gifted with a snowfall of about eight to 10 inches of fresh snow. The morning was cold, but the next day it was bright as we headed south to the preserve we were to hunt. Puck was in the back of my truck lying patiently.
There was no doubt that he recognized the gear we had loaded and knew we were on our way to find him the action he seeks. We got to the preserve strapped, on our gear and followed our guide out to the fields. We had a pretty successful day with six birds taken, our last trail taking us back to the barn was a trolley track from many years ago. The land sloped down hill a bit to the right and the left offered only cliffs straight up about 30 feet to a heavily brushed plateau overlooking the trolley bed.
Mark decided to take Puck up top and I would continue down the trolley tracks. Soon after we separated I heard a shot from above. I stopped and listened for Mark’s whistle commands for Puck. In a split second a pheasant sailed over my head into the brush below, and, to my astonishment, Puck, not being able to see the precipice in front of him, sailed off into midair 30 feet straight down, and landed a few feet in front of me, flat on his back. My heart and stomach lurched as I was sure he had to be hurt very badly. The fresh snow apparently acted as a sufficient cushion, for when Puck landed he rolled over shook himself off and went into the brush to retrieve the pheasant. Within moments he came back to me, bird in mouth and apparently no worse for the experience.
There is no doubt in my mind his incredible conditioning and muscle tone were the reasons he was uninjured. Nevertheless, I was still shaken and could not believe what I had just seen. My son-in-law, Steven, who was walking behind me, witnessed this scary moment. In my mind’s eye I can still see him tumbling through the air and hear the thud when he landed. Fortunately Mark did not see what happened and at first when we relayed the story I think he thought we were making it up.
Last summer Mark was very kind in allowing me to run Puck in a couple of National Duck Dog Challenge (NDDC) events, not necessarily to get him bird-ready, but more to help me improve my dog-handling skills.
Now if I were to tell you that I learned how to handle Puck from Puck you might say I am nuts. Well, that’s exactly what happened. On more than one occasion, in spite of my giving less- than-perfect commands, he knew what to do.
In the team event when I forgot we had another bumper on the water and I started to move to the next phase, he had his mark and went to retrieve it anyway. This was the day he began building his reputation in the NDDC by retrieving two bumpers on one retrieve and cutting our time in half. Incidentally we took a first, a second and a fourth. If I had shot better on the other occasions we could have won all firsts. The good news is Puck didn’t seem to mind we didn’t win all the events. He got to retrieve and swim and that’s just fine with him.
In the back of my mind I have a desire to own my own dog, but I also harbor the fear that I have been spoiled. Puck is now five years old and in his prime. On more than one occasion we have seen him run himself so hard we have had to restrain him and make him rest.
I am sure that all dog owners believe their pups to be the best, as well as they should. I understand that everyone’s dog is special to them and they each have their quirks that make them unique. I tell this story simply to pay honor to a big handsome black lab that has allowed me to be a small part of his life and to say thanks to a friend who doesn’t mind sharing his wonderful big, goofy dog.
You see, whenever I get to have Puck as a house guest we get to throw bumpers, chase birds and share the fireplace hearth. I guess this story is mostly to remind all dog owners how lucky they are to have a best friend that accepts them no matter what, and that one day I hope to join you, but for now I enjoy Puck when I can. After all, at the end of the day, he only cares that he gets fed, gets to retrieve bumpers and find birds and has a warm place to sleep close to his chosen friends and every once in a while, ask for and receive attention.
Al Hague is an avid outdoorsman and published author as well as outdoor photographer. Al resides and hunts mostly in the western half of the US and Canada. His photos can also be seen on http://www.shutterpoint.com and http://www.theartshop.com.
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A Celebration of Early Season Shooting in the Shenandoah Valley
Written by Irwin GreensteinIt was September 9th, eight days after the West Virginia season opener for mourning doves. At the Shenandoah Valley Sportsmen Club, opening-day hunters had maxed out their limit within hours – arriving home in plenty of time for lunch and chores.
But only eight days later, the Shenandoah Valley Sportsmen Club provided us with the tranquility of a relaxed dove hunt. Waiting for the acrobatic birds on our field stools we leisurely picked off the occasional doves as they zoomed into range, our gunfire breaking the prevailing pastoral calm. Personally, a serene shoot at dusk suited me fine.
We shot sporting clays all morning at the nearby Prospect Hall Shooting Club, and after a picnic lunch of cold-cut sandwiches we continued shooting the games of helice and grouse butt.
My shooting companions were Jent Mitchell, president of the Virginia Vintagers chapter, and his friends Darrell McKigney, John Swindle and David Hamilton. John and David only had time for a morning shoot of 100 rounds of sporting clays. Jent, Darrell and I ended up going another 150 rounds each at Prospect Hall before we left for the dove hunt.
We had arrived at the Shenandoah Valley Sportsmen Club in Martinsburg at about 4:30 PM, when the doves would start to fly again. This time, Jent, Darrell and I were joined by Scott Shendon. The job of retrieving birds was given to Jent’s English Setter, Abby II.
As it turned out, Jent and Darrell had hunted there the day before, Darrell reclaiming his place under a nearby shade tree. Scott peeled off further to the right while Jent and I trekked straight ahead, carrying our gear along the tree line deeper into the open field.
When I ultimately plopped down on the field stool, obscured from the doves by a tree and some scrub, I was ready to simply enjoy the remainder of the day. Shooting a few doves would be a bonus. The scenery and weather were ample reward after 250 rounds at the venerable Prospect Hall Shooting Club.
My spot provided an excellent vantage point for doves coming from the northwest and southeast. I was shooting a 12-gauge Fausti Caledon over/under field gun as part of a long-term review. Jent was accompanied by one of his beloved Parkers. Darrell had a vintage AyA and Scott was at the ready with this Beretta 391 semi-auto (my shotgun of choice at Prospect Hall).
The early evening was shirt-sleeves warm and aromatic of autumn. Low storm clouds radiated angled beams of golden sunlight. A sprawling white dairy barn in the distance recalled simpler times and it was easy to slip into a reverie. Waiting for the doves, I found myself lulled into the pleasures of the South.
Earlier that day, the morning still quiet, I had driven some rural back roads lined with stone walls to find myself on a gravel track that gradually revealed the white mansion house of Prospect Hall rising into view.
I got out of my car, the first to arrive, with no one else in sight. The temperature must have been in the 70s and it was a bluebird sky. Meadows and a red barn composed the immediate landscape as the Blue Ridge Mountains lay in the distance. This knoll and the Opequon creek running along the west side of the farm were part of a 639-acre land grant from Lord Fairfax to Joseph Edwards. The original two-room log house stood some 20 feet to the southeast on the 500 acres that still comprised Prospect Hall.
The white brick house, completed in the early 1800s, stood prominent on hallowed ground.
All around here, the farmers of the Shenandoah Valley had fed the Confederacy during the Civil War. Strategically, the region served as a staging area for raids on Pennsylvania, Maryland and Washington.
In 1862, the outnumbered Confederate General Stonewall Jackson defended the Shenandoah Valley against three Union armies. As the Confederacy’s defeat lay imminent, the valley turned to partisan fighting over the loyalties to Confederate John Mosby and his Rangers who frequently operated in the area during a time when the North had adopted a scorched earth policy.
Prospect Hall itself was the location of General Meade's defeat of the Union Army preceding the Battle of Gettysburg.
Today, Prospect Hall is a private shooting club. The main house is what you’d expect with colonial furniture and cushy leather couches in the sitting room. A well-used commercial kitchen supports the guests and corporate parties, with a conference room for meetings and seminars contiguous to the mansion house.
There was an understated ambiance at Prospect Hall. It bore all the hallmarks of a bed-and-breakfast, but instead of potpourri masquerading as romance the house exuded the masculine vestige of Jent’s old Parkers with their original patina.
Since Darrell was a member of Prospect Hall, he had arranged the day’s events for his guests. As I waited for the others to arrive, an all-wheel-drive “mule” pulled up driven by Phillip Dietrich II, the club’s Hunt and Field Director and an NSCA instructor. He told me to hop in, threw it into gear and gave me a tour of the property.
Most of our conversation centered on his efforts to restore the natural habitat for pheasant, chukar, and Hungarian partridge since his arrival here five years ago. Prospect Hall specializes in upland style bird hunts September 1 through April 30. The biggest challenge for him was clearing the cedar trees allowed to mature, and then disposing of them. While many of the cedars still lined the wild meadows and harvested plots of milo, millet, corn, and sorghum, you could see a few piles of cedar debris awaiting removal. In the mean time, Phil was happy to have the tangled mounds serve as home to rabbits.
He also explained that on the other side of the property Prospect Hall hosts European Style Shooting for ducks and pheasants. Hunters are assigned “pegs” on stands along the creek. Birds are released from the cliff overlooking the creek, creating the high-shot experience of a driven shoot.
Another release bird shoot at Prospect Hall places hunters in blinds that circle a hill. Game birds are released from the hill top and the hunters rotate through the blinds in the fashion of a tower shoot.
By the time Phil and I returned to the parking lot some of my shooting companions had arrived. Jent had previously mentioned that I brought along two Faustis for them to shoot for our Peer Review columns: a 20-gauge Fausti Dea Round Body side-by-side with double triggers and the over/under Caledon that I would end up using on doves at the Shenandoah Valley Sportsmen Club.
Everyone was eager to see the Faustis and so I brought them into the dining room and laid them out on the ample, antique table. A lively conversation ensued over fresh-brewed coffee as they closely examined the guns, with the Dea Round Body drawing praise for its appearance and finish.
With coffee done and the sun moving high it was time to shoot sporting clays on Prospect Hall’s 24-station course. Jent loaded up a tricycle cart with two 12-gauge Parkers, while Darrell brought his AyA. David also brought a 12-gauge Parker and John had a Winchester Model 21. I had brought along my “blasphemous” Berretta 391 semi-auto, as well as both Faustis in the event anyone wanted to give them a try.
Our trapper, Jimmy, drove the mule and we were to walk the undulating course with Abby II taking our lead.
Shooting sporting clays at Prospect Hall is perhaps the closest you can get to upland hunting. All the traps are well obscured in the tall grasses. Instead of cages, three logs framed the station. The presentations were mostly moderate crossers and outgoers. There were fast, quartering-away rabbit pairs that quickly showed you only their trailing edge, and a long, quartering crosser skimming the tall grass. But an intermediate shooter could have scored well in the first half of the course.
Darrell had opted for the Fausti Dea Round Body at about the fifth station. He quickly took to the gun and made some phenomenal shots with it for the remainder of the course.
About two-thirds through the course we came to the 50-foot tower. Jimmy scaled the ladder, throwing quartering birds over the tree tops. After several rounds, we descended a set of overgrown steps into a staging area that turned the tower shots into a high, incoming flurry. Several of the guys started shooting backup to their companions and Darrell described how they would often spend hours here with a picnic lunch delighting in the high incomers.
Our ammo bags had been left at the base of the tower and when we ran out of shells it was time for lunch. John left but David joined us at the picnic table on the front lawn of the mansion house.
Jent had the turkey and roast beef sliced particularly thick, making the sandwiches especially savory and delicious after walking the entire sporting clays course. We then took our cars to the helice course.
For those of you unfamiliar with helice, the game replicates live pigeon shoots. The helice targets are distinguished by their propellers and the hub holds a white plastic cap called a witness. With the trapper at the control panel behind the shooter, the shooter calls pull and one of the boxes in the fenced ring is selected at random to launch an oscillating bird (there are five to seven traps in a ring). You score only if you’re able to dislodge the witness and have it land within the ring (again, like pigeon shoots). Merely hitting the propeller does not constitute a point.
After Darrell and I shot two rounds of helice, we went across the road to the grouse butt course. Grouse butt consists of an oscillating trap machine with four stations, each at a point of the compass. The Prospect Hall course included a fifth station in which you step down into a concrete blind as the birds fly overhead. We shot 100 rounds of grouse butt and by now I was pretty exhausted.
We were running late for the dove hunt, though, and quickly packed up. We drove some 12 miles west where Scott was waiting for us. After registering in the sparse clubhouse, we jumped into two SUVs and navigated across several fields to our assigned areas.
Before long, the four of us were stationed in the field waiting for the doves. Eyes skyward, the storm front backlit by the late afternoon sun kindled that inner warmth you feel with approaching autumn. Even though my eyes looked up, my heart was elsewhere. I missed a few easy doves that crossed my path and made a couple of difficult shots purely out of instinct with the aid of the fast-moving Fausti Caledon. Then I would slowly take my place in the field stool to wait again, wishing I had brought some cigars to enjoy the sunset.
Irwin Greenstein is Publisher of Shotgun Life. Please send your comments to letters@shotgunlife.com.
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Irwin Greenstein, Publisher
Argentina Wing Shooting 101 OR a Practical Guide to Volume Wing Shooting
Written by John Wiles
Okay, so I’m an outfitter, and yes, I have a business in Argentina. This article isn’t about any of that. It is about what you need to know if you want to go, and how to figure the cost of going. For 15 of the last 20 years, I was a consumer. I did my research, booked my own flights, paid my money, and went hunting. That changed five years ago, but I believe that, now as an outfitter, with a lot of real world experience, I have a moral and ethical obligation to educate and explain to potential Argentina wing shooting hunters how to put together this hunt of a lifetime and what it really, really costs.
Hunting the Wiley Chukar in Utah
Written by Jerry Sinkovec | Photos by Jerry SinkovecHaving hunted most of the species of upland birds in North America, I’ve come to appreciate the qualities of the chukar. Hunting chukar is an exciting adventure that always includes a surprise or two. Chukars are not only fun to hunt, they are also one of the most hearty birds to put down and typically don’t present a head shot on the rise as pheasant tend to do – making them challenging as well.
Recently, I had the opportunity to hunt the birds in southern Utah near the town of Teasdale. The Red River Ranch Lodge is located on the river. The ranch offers six-and-a-half miles of private fly-fishing and over 3,000 acres of bird hunting.
The lodge is only minutes from Capitol Reef National Park, giving you beautiful vistas at every turn in the exciting red rock country. The lodge has 17 rooms each with a fireplace and a different theme that exudes ambience and warmth. Another larger fireplace is the focal point of the lounge area next to the dinning room. The lodge also has an outdoor hot tub, which is great to soothe tired leg muscles from a day of walking through high grass and grain fields.
My contact and guide from Red River Outfitters was Shawn Saunders, the owner and founder who hails from Sun Valley, Idaho. He has been guiding professionally since 1993 and several years ago started Red River Outfitters. Having arrived late in the day, we made arrangements for an early start the next morning.
My favorite gun for this type of bird hunting is a Verona made by Rizzini. It’s the LX692 Competition 20/28 gauge combo with 30-inch barrels. It offers two different gauges to shoot and handles just like my regular competition guns. Those two gauges with the right ammo will kill just about any upland bird you’re likely to run across.
After a delicious breakfast at the lodge, Shawn and I went over to the kennels to pick up a dog that would work with us over the next few days.
We decided to make a sweep through the surrounding sagebrush country not far from the kennels and corrals. After about 15 to 20 minutes of walking, the dog, Dan, went on point. As we approached, the dog flushed three birds and we shot two. Not a bad start I thought. About 30 minutes later, another bird was in the bag. What was nice about hunting chukars in this area was that the hills weren’t as steep and high as many of the other areas I’ve hunted. It made for much more comfortable walking and didn’t leave me totally out of breath when I had to take a shot.
Two more birds were in the bag as we started the sweep back toward the horse corrals and kennels. Shawn and the dog stayed low in a draw while I walked up a little higher on a ridge that led to the corrals. As I approached the corrals my attention was drawn to a beautiful paint colt in one of corrals. The closest corral wasn’t used much and had some grasses and weeds growing in it, and I hadn’t bothered to look into them as I was attracted by the colt.
After a minute or two something in the grass caught my eye. It might have been some slight movement or what, I don’t know. At first I didn’t see anything, then I realized several chukars were in the brush and grass in the corral. I chuckled, and then yelled out to Shawn and the dog, who were in the draw. “There’s going to be a shootout at the OK corral.” I’m sure he didn’t understand why I yelled that out. But in the next instant the birds flushed in all directions. Between us, we dropped another three birds out of about 10 for a productive morning hunt.
Over lunch, we shared a few laughs about the shootout and discussed where we’d hunt that afternoon. We decided to hunt the river bottoms south of the ranch. The area also had some of the heaviest cover for the birds.
During the afternoon we flushed a lot of other game as well. There were cottontail rabbits galore with an occasional jackrabbit thrown in. It was my feeling the rabbits would be harder to get than the birds, since you only see the rabbits for an instant before they are out of sight behind another brush. We also flushed quail and pheasant. My primary reason for being there was the chukar, but I decided to take some pheasant as well. We ended the afternoon with five more chukars in the bag and three pheasant.
The following morning we went to the grain and grass fields southwest of the ranch. The plan was to hunt by ourselves in the morning and then join other hunters during the afternoon. It wasn’t long before we ran across three birds running in a furrow ahead of us. The dog picked up the scent as well. When the birds broke we dropped two of them. A little further on we were onto a small covey of about six birds and we bagged another two. We ended up the morning with a total of six birds.
What I noticed over the past three years is that chukars tend to take more shot to put them down compared with pheasant or grouse. Almost every time I hunt upland birds it’s with a 28- or 20-gauge shotgun. I’ve put many a pheasant and grouse down with a single shot, but often it takes two shots to bring down a chukar. It appears that size 7½ shot or larger is preferred. A speed of 1250 to 1300 FPS seems to work best. A speed of 1200 FPS with size 8 or 7½ shot is marginal. Winchester makes a great 28-gauge, high-brass game load with 1 ounce of size 6 shot or other size shot, which seems to work well.
In the afternoon we joined six other hunters and their guides. It was their third trip to the ranch for bird hunting and in talking with them they were already planning their next trip back to the ranch. There were five adults and one teenager with two guides and dogs who were enjoying the bird hunting at RRR.
A plan was made and we swept through some high grass and grain fields. The shooting started at the far end of the sweep and a couple of pheasants were taken. Over the next two hours we bagged several more pheasants and about 10 chukars.
I had the opportunity to take two more chukars a little later, but the shooting was somewhat slow at the left end that Shawn and I were covering. I decided to move up onto the bank of the canal that bordered the west end of the fields.
Shooters at the far end of the drive seemed to be getting more birds, but then a bird went up to my far right and out in front of a shooter to my right. He took a shot and missed. The bird made a sweeping left turn and headed down the canal to my immediate left, but about two feet below the high brush that separated me and the canal. The pheasant was visible for brief moments as I could catch a glimpse as it flew down the canal. As it passed me, I saw a slight opening that looked like I’d have a fairly clear shot at it. A single shot from my 20 gauge dropped the bird into the canal. Dan made a great retrieve. The other shooters got several more chukars and I managed to get one more before we called it a day.
On the final day of hunting, Shawn and I went out into the sage country south of the ranch for more chukars. The morning started a little slow, but things picked up rather quickly. In the second hour I managed to get four birds and a few more afterwards before the morning hunt came to an end.
After lunch the wind picked up. It was blowing more than 30 miles per hour and gusting higher, which made it hard for us and the dog. After a while the dog went on point into the woodpile in front of us. I told Shawn it was probably another cottontail. We couldn’t see anything around the pile and there were no bushes or grass around it. We were stumped.
Yet again I was amazed to find a covey of five chukars less than eight feet in front of me frozen still and almost invisible in some short grass. I yelled to Shawn they were in front of me and that sent the birds into the air where Shawn and I each got one. We chuckled about what just happened at how the birds were behind where the dog was looking. The wind played some strange tricks that afternoon. That ended the last day of hunting at a destination that I’ll return to in the future.
In addition to the hunting and fly-fishing the ranch offers horseback riding and ATV tours of the area. For further information of the Red River Ranch or Red River Outfitters call 1-877-6-STREAM or go to www.rroutfitters.com.
Jerry Sinkovec is an accomplished photographer and writer with several awards to his credit. He also owns the I.T.I. Shotgun Shooting School in Idaho Falls, Idaho. He has written for more than 45 magazines and newspapers including Shooting Sportsman, Double Gun Journal, Shotgun News, Shotgun Sports, Clay Shooting USA, Sporting Clays and Clay Pigeon. He is currently the Shooting and Travel Editor for Outdoors Now Magazine. You can find out more about Jerry at http://jerrysinkovec.samsbiz.com. For more information about the I.T.I. Shotgun Shooting School please visit http://www.itishooting.com.
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Irwin Greenstein, Publisher
I was offered the opportunity to write for Shotgun Life and I will be bringing to you information and reports from the west on this great sport of wingshooting we all enjoy. I am not an expert in any particular part of this sport nor am I a particularly proficient shooter.
In fairness to myself, however, I would like to point out I do hit more than I miss especially when it's birds fit for the table. I do have specific knowledge of the shooting industry and I am also able to travel around this sport and bring you what I hope are interesting and informative articles for your enjoyment.
Now that you know a bit about me perhaps you will find the following information interesting and useful.
In the spring of 2008, a new game for dogs and shooters was introduced for the first time in Spokane, Washington. I am referring to the National Duck Dog Challenge. The fitting slogan for this game is "Sporting Clays with Your Dog".
It is a competition, but more importantly it is an opportunity to get yourself and your dog ready for bird season and at the same time have a lot of fun, meet some other great people and test your skills along with those of your dog.
You should know that this game is primarily designed for duck hunters and retrievers of all breeds. It is a game that is scored and not judged, and for that very reason all the rules are based on real-life duck hunting scenarios. The game consists of two parts, shooting and dog handling.
The competitor is called into the blind with his dog and upon a signal a bumper with a clay attached is launched from one or more locations.
The competitor must shoot the clay and then send his dog to retrieve the bumper. Points are scored for a hit on the clay and additional points are scored for the least amount of time taken to retrieve the bumper to hand.
Both parts of the scenario are important to score and finish at the top. However, missing targets is a higher point loss than time taken on a retrieve.
After all if you don't hit the duck when hunting, the dog has nothing to do and we all know that does not make your dog happy.
Duck Dog Challenge offers different level of competition for all levels of participants. In the hunter class targets are launched one at a time and single retrieves are the norm. In the Open class multiple targets are launched from different spots and multiple retrieves are required. In the Open Team class two shooters and one dog are required to shoot again multiple targets and multiple retrieves as well as a blind retrieve for the dog.
To win a team or a single class a competitor must have a good day at shooting as well as good dog work. It certainly is not as difficult as it sounds and it is a lot of fun to be sure.
Last season it was determined that many people want to play the game but some were only dog handlers and not great shooters while others were good shooters who did not own a dog.
In response to that demand the NDDC now allows for a designated shooter or a designated handler in the Open and Open Team classes.
The first event held in Oregon in March of this year proved that this was a positive change as many dog handlers seeking to get titles on their dogs participated with designated shooters. Men, women and young shooters from everywhere are enjoying NDDC. Duck Dog Challenge is now open to more people, and if the first event is any indicator the season will be very busy. If you are lucky enough to live near and event you should probably get registered as early as possible.
Unlike sporting clays and trap where the clays fly in a fairly straight line, the launched bumper with the clay attached tumbles end over end and is a more challenging target. The competitor also has the additional challenge of being able to focus on the dog while shooting to prevent him from breaking which costs points.
Once you get with the program, it is a great day of practice and training for you and your dog.
The game is designed to be flexible and may be run on water or on dry land so that dogs get both kinds of retrieves. Relatively small acreage is needed to hold the event and this game is ideal for fund raising for any club or charity whose supporters are involved in the sport. Any age may participate providing the competitor has a hunter safety certificate.
At last year's events several breeds of retrievers were there, including black, yellow and chocolate labs. In Spokane an event was held at Burlington Ranch and one of the stars of the day was a little Boykin Spaniel who not only was a fast water retriever but was equally effective on land.
A major rule change for this season involves the amount of shells you can bring to the line. Last year, a limit of shells equal to the amount of targets presented was allowed, if you used an extra shell, penalty points were deducted.
This year the shell limit has been dropped which brings semi-autos into the game, and you can have three in your gun even if you have only one target launched at a time. This is much more in keeping with real duck hunting.
There are many events planned all over the country for 2009. The cost to compete is very close to the average sporting clays day unless you choose to get into the options pots for prize money. The future will see a pro division where competition will include prize money rivaling that of bass tournaments.
This event is also ideal for spectators as well since the field can be set up safely to avoid any danger to those attending. This provides additional ability for fund raising for clubs who host the event and provide the volunteers who perform the duties associated with running the event.
The folks from National Duck Dog Challenge show up at the location with a trailer completely outfitted with all the remote controlled launchers, blinds, targets and scoring system. The event coordinator from NDDC will layout the courses, direct the volunteers and provide the safety instruction and even instructions to the competitors.
The National Duck Dog Challenge schedule and other information are available at www.nationalduckdogchallenge.com. They even maintain the results for national rankings on the site and that of the dogs as well. It's worthwhile mentioning that if you and your favorite hunting partner want to share a dog you can both run the same dog as separate competitors.
Keep an eye out for the next event in your area and get out and give it a try. This is a fun and realistic way to sharpen both yours and your dog's skills for the season. On top of that you will meet new friends, learn new ideas and it definitely beats sitting around just dreaming about duck hunting all summer.
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The trip was organized by Kent Cartridge Company, which was introducing their new non-toxic shotshell load - Tungsten Matrix. The ducks in Uruguay were the perfect venue to put the new shells to the acid test. Sometimes folks here in North America figure it's easy to get through red tape - like getting those shells into Uruguay, but doing that was anything but easy. To their credit Kent pulled it off - at the last figurative minute.
It was a wonderful partial week of shooting - with four morning duck hunts and four afternoons of dove, pigeon or partridge gunning. The Tungsten Matrix shells lived up to their advance billing, and I got to see some great Brittany spaniels do their thing on the native partridge - called perdiz in Uruguay - which is simply the Spanish word for partridge. In English this bird's proper name is the spotted tinamou.
There are many different species of tinamou in South America, but this is the one most commonly hunted over pointing dogs - commonly over pampas-like pasture fields where the walking is easy. The only South American partridge I had shot previously had been those in the high Andes of Ecuador - at over 10,000 feet - so those birds were breathtaking in more ways than one.
Since 1997 I've had the opportunity to hunt these perdiz many times. The spotted tinamou flushes out of grass that tends to be three or four inches high - up to maybe about 10 or 12-inches high. There's no surrounding brush, so the shooting is not that difficult. Most often only one bird flushes, but a two-bird rise is not uncommon. Perdiz do run but usually not far. Often they will run for 10 or 20 yards, sit for the pointing dog, only to run again. However, these birds eventually do sit tight to the point. If the dog will hold, and most of them do, there's time to walk in for a close-range shot. What I love so much about perdiz is that there are so many of them. After taking one shot it does not take very long before the dog starts working another bird. The dogs learn to handle the running birds properly in a short time - simply because there are so many perdiz - so the dogs can learn the bird's habits repeatedly.
Open-choke, 12-gauge upland guns work well, as do the 20 bores. Once I carried a 28-gauge with open chokes, but I started doing a lot better after I switched out to tighter chokes with that small gauge. In Uruguay it's easy to get very high quality 12, 20 and 28 gauge shells these days - which was not always the case.
Eduardo Gonzales was the outfitter. Since 1997 I have hunted with Eduardo several more times. We were based in the town of Triente Tres that first trip, but of late Gonzales is based even farther to the east. He has learned so much about luring ducks to his blinds that he has traveled to South Africa - to show outfitters there how to do it.
The duck shooting I've enjoyed in Uruguay ranks with some of my most memorable trips/shoots. There are at least five different teal species, each more beautiful than the other, plus the regal and great eating rosy-billed pouchard, a species of widgeon, plus a smattering of others.
None of the ducks in Uruguay are native to North America, so shooting the birds down there has no effect on North American populations. Limits are liberal, but you have to keep in mind that, relatively speaking, nobody hunts ducks in Uruguay - save for the few Americans and others who fly there - so hunter numbers are very small. Still - ducks are ducks - they are wary - under too much gunning pressure they simply move out.
Twelve and 20-gauge guns are best. Tighter chokes always seem to work best on a duck, but you don't have to go overboard with choking. Most shots are well within 35 yards, though, of course, you can shoot at ducks a lot farther than that if you so desire. With Eduardo Gonzales you simply don't have to do that.
Since I have shot in South America so often - with the high volume of birds there - it's important to consider recoil. I've been there with shooters who were finished after the first day, their shoulders a black and blue mess, and/or their cheeks red - even bleeding. When you get pounded this hard you don't want to pull the trigger any more.
I've developed a couple of guns for this type of shooting. Both are Krieghoff model 32s. One has a JS Air Cushion stock, while the other has a Soft Touch stock. The latter cushions recoil with a strong spring inside the stock, while the former relies on a pumped-up air cylinder. The only change you might have to make with a gun of either type is to hold it more loosely. Doing so allows the spring and air cylinder to do their recoil-eliminating jobs. Hold these guns too tightly and you receive the recoil in your hands and elbows. I can't emphasize recoil reduction enough for anyone considering a high-volume shoot.
The gunning was so high volume during that 1997 Gonzales trip that no other members of our party (there were 16 of us) wanted to shoot the final morning - except me. I took my Krieghoff with the JS Air Cushion stock, and the morning started off in spectacular fashion. I killed the first duck with a single shot. Two more teal buzzed the just-made blind, and I knocked both down with my over and under. Another single came from left to right, speeding along at a darn good pace, and I killed it. At the same time an unlucky duck flew from right to left - and flew right into my shot pattern. It wasn't the end of the morning by any stretch, but I had five ducks and had only fired four Tungsten Matrix rounds. Pretty special.
I highly recommend a hunt with Eduardo Gonzales, as well as the shooting in Uruguay - and you will love the people. All of Eduardo's bookings go through Trek International Safaris in Florida. Call them toll free for more information - 800-654-9915.
Nick Sisley has been a full-time freelance outdoor writer since 1969. He writes a regular shotgun column in Wildfowl magazine, Sporting Clays magazine, the Skeet Shooting Review and others. He's authored eight books and penned thousands and thousands of magazine articles. He can be contacted at nicksisley@hotmail.com.
Useful links:
http://www.treksafaris.com/
http://www.kentgamebore.com
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