Make It Happen

I grew up watching Jimmy Houston, Hank Parker, Roland Martin and Bill Dance.  These television personalities became my mentors as my family and friends did not fish or hunt.  It was relatively easy to learn to fish.  My hometown of Swampscott, Massachusetts had half-dozen ponds that were untouched and loaded with bass.  I could walk the water with a variety of lures and catch fish.  The ocean was in close proximity, so surf-fishing became a regular activity as I got older.  Thanks to Mr. Tom Mann, I was able to participate in a few tournaments down south.  While I did not have success in these events, it certainly fueled my passion for continued involvement in the outdoors. 

Learning to hunt was not effortless as extensive firearm training is vital before you can enter the field.  Unfortunately, that guidance was not readily available in the suburbs of Boston, so I had to suppress my desire to participate in the sport for another fifteen years. 

In my late twenties, my good friend Scott Tynan and his pals in Michigan introduced me to rabbit hunting.  The training was brief and clear; keep the shotgun barrel pointed away from your fellow hunters, and don’t shoot the dogs.  Scott’s friends taught me how to clean my rabbits, and an old cookbook provided the recipe for my first stew.  This introduction was only a teaser as there seemed to be an invisible barrier prohibiting my continued involvement.   

A job took my family to Colorado in the winter of 2008.  Soon after my arrival, my buddy Bob Coyle, offered to help me purchase my first shotgun.  The Google search engine is an important tool when seeking out what to do next.  I was thrilled to discover that there is a local upland preserve & sporting clays range less than thirty minutes from my house.  I bought a membership, obtained some tutelage from a local professional and started practicing.  

In the summer of 2010 I completed my hunter safety course, and later that year, adopted my gundog Pride.  Over the last three years, we have regularly hunted pheasants in Eastern Colorado and Kansas.  My friend, Chad Cadwell, has graciously invited me to duck hunt with him on his prodigious lease in Weld County.  I have put in for big game tags each year but have come up short; until 2013.  With permission from my friend Bob Cage, I applied for tags on his ranch in Wild Horse, Colorado.  Amazingly, I drew both a pronghorn and deer tag.   

Preparation for the Pronghorn hunt involved multiple, and essential steps over an extended period of time.  Step one was to acquire all of the appropriate equipment and knowledge that would lead to a successful hunt (see below).  I leveraged the web and experienced hunters as resources.  Step two was to get trained on how to properly shoot my rifle.

Over the summer, I had Cabela’s bore-sight my rifle in order to get me near paper.  It was then time to visit the range in order to solidify my shooting confidence.  In three sessions, we managed to achieve a 1.5 inch grouping at 100 yards.  That would put me in the kill zone at 200 yards, even if conditions were less than ideal.

On the afternoon of October 4th, Chad Cadwell and I made our way southeast to the Cage Ranch.  Chad is a friend and veteran hunter who offered me his years of experience on my hunt.   We met Bob, Eric Rosel and his son Kelly at headquarters.  Eric also had a pronghorn tag to fill, and for the first time, he would be introducing Kelly to the sport of hunting.  Some cocktails, and a few hunting stories lead to incredible anticipation for the following day’s events.  Right before bed, I took a close look at my tag, and realized that my units were not the optimal areas on the ranch to hunt pronghorns.  I would be sequestered to the northeast where the tree lined habitat caters more to the mule and whitetail deer population.  Despite a new heightened level of anxiety, I managed to squeeze in a few hours of sleep before the 5:30 am wake up call. 

The Saturday strategy was simple; we would get Eric his animal first, then it would be my turn.  We purposefully traveled the ranch in Bob’s Ford F150; each of us glassing for pronghorn activity.  The early morning produced a few prodigious mule deer sightings, but no pronghorn.  Once we did spot a herd of speed goats, we stopped the truck, and started to pursue them on foot.  The rut was on, and it became evident that the bucks were in hot pursuit of any and all females.   As we climbed over a ridge, we could see the lone male rounding up his chosen mates.  Bob signaled to Eric to ready himself for a shot.  Unexpectedly, the buck initiated a determined sprint, and made a beeline directly at our position on the opposite ridge.  Eric repositioned himself, in an attempt to get the appropriate angle on the moving animal.  The pronghorn actually crested the ridge and then pulled an immediate 180 when he saw Bob’s parked truck.  Bob stood up and waived his hands in order to attempt to make the animal stop.  At two hundred and fifty yards the buck paused and looked back at us.  Eric steadied his aim, and shot him in the shoulder.  We celebrated the moment together; it was textbook execution and a clean kill.  Eric, Bob and Chad field dressed the animal, and we headed back to headquarters to hang him in the barn. 

It was now my turn to hunt.  I was a bit anxious as we headed to my units.  Hopefully we would see animals, and my preparation would allow me to perform under pressure.  As we made our way back down the road, I stopped Bob so we could glass where I would be hunting.  I quickly picked up four white bellies, but could not discern if a buck was present.  Opening day of rifle season presents issues for Bob and his team.  Trespassers regularly slip onto his land, and that can present safety issues when there are many people hunting his property.  To that point, we inspected a truck that had illegally parked on the one of the main roads.  In order rectify the situation; telephone calls were placed to the appropriate people. 

Bob could sense that I was a becoming increasingly edgy, so he took us back to the fields.    We headed to the general area where we had seen the four pronghorns from across the road.  After emptying out of the vehicle, we began a quiet jog to the nearest hillside.  The group cautiously peered over the edge of the ridge to see if we could spot the herd.  Bob signaled for us to get low as he spotted the animals grazing to our right.  He told me that there was a shooter-buck, and I needed to get prepared.  I began an army crawl in order to seek a better vantage point where I could set up for a shot.  Bob told me that the male was to my right, and standing at two hundred and thirty yards.  I carefully put the rifle in the bipod, and got to my knees.  The pronghorn herd immediately spotted my movement and started to run to the south.  The male isolated himself from the others, and dashed forty yards to the west.  He unexpectedly stopped and turned back towards us.  Bob whispered “he is at two hundred and seventy yards” so I put the crosshairs behind his right shoulder and slowly squeezed the trigger.  Despite the recoil of the rifle, I was able to watch the buck through my scope drop straight to the ground.  An intense feeling of elation overcame me as I had just fulfilled a lifelong dream.  I celebrated the accomplishment with my fellow hunters, and thanked them for their guidance.  

Participating in outdoor conservation is a privilege and requires many personal responsibilities.  Getting involved takes time, patience, commitment and direction.  I am proof that it is never too late to participate.  I look forward to paying it forward to younger generations of hunters and fisherman.

Product

Review

Tikka T3 Lite chambered in a 30-06 caliber

One shot one kill.  I like my average so far.

Limbsaver Recoil Pad

The change was worth it, as the pad absorbs the thump.  Great low-cost, easy to install investment.

Bushnell Elite Scope (3 x 10 x 40)

I made a scope change 10 days before my hunt.  That was scary.  I went from a 4x fixed power to the Bushnell with variable magnification.  Great advice from my friend Luke Lindsay. 

Barnes VOR-TX 168 grain bullet

Devastating.  At 270 yards, I hit the animal 4 inches high and 4 inches behind my mark, and the animal died instantly.

Under Armour

·         ColdGear Infrared Ridge Reaper Softshell Jacket

·         Ridge Reaper Shell Camo Hunting Bib

·         ColdGear Evo Scent Control Fitted ½ Zip

·         UA Speed Freek Chaos Hunting Boots

·         UA Camo Crew Socks

·         UA Base 3.0 Crew and Leggings

·         UA Hat

Under Armour has and continues to manufactures great products.  The question I had was whether the quality would translate into their hunting line.  It does.   Saturday started off chilly (29 degrees) and very windy, and I barely noticed the conditions.  As the day warmed, and we started to pursue the animals on foot, I dropped the jacket.   I ordered size large in all products and the clothing fit me perfectly. 

The Speed Freek boots are extremely comfortable, and did not need a break in period.  I stepped on a lot of cactus and yucca trees, and felt nothing on my feet.  I hope these boots hold up over time as I really like them.

UA base layers are and have always been the best.  Their technology and comfort continue to improve over time.

Vortex Diamondback Binoculars (10 x 42)

The Diamondback line from Vortex is affordable (around $200).  These are a great set of binoculars at an ideal price point.  Vortex is a brand all hunters need to consider.

Havalon Piranta Whitetail Hunting and Skinning Knife

This knife is EXTREMLY sharp and highly effective.  It was effortless to field dress the pronghorn.   

Badlands Recon Pack

Versatile and light pack; the Recon has all of the right features/functions.  Badlands makes great products, and the Recon is no exception. 

BOGs Bipod

Held our rifles steady for some challenging shots.  Smart purchase for an inexperienced big game hunter.

Leupold RX1000i TBR with DNA Rangefinder

We quickly ascertained the original and secondary position of the pronghorn.  Awesome product.

K2 Cooler (70 Quart)

I put 4 bags of ice in the cooler on Friday.  We used two bags over three days.  On Sunday, the two remaining bags were still frozen solid. 

2011 Ram 1500

Still running strong after almost 2 years.  Unfortunately my back windows just started to leak.  This is the first major issue with the truck.

 

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Our Thanksgiving Meal Will be Purchased in 2013

The Cage Ranch is about two hours from my house in Parker, CO. The sprawling 40,000+ acres is home to about 1,000 head of cattle as well as a plethora of coyotes, bobcats, antelope, deer, foxes, dove, quail and turkey. I visited the ranch just over a half a dozen times over the last year. Trips to the land have become a source of complete relaxation for me. Bob, the ranch owner, is a friend and an avid sportsman. Bob is use to my many hunting related questions, and his adept responses are filled with insight that I covet. He is keenly aware of my lack of familiarity with certain types of hunting, and is more than willing to mentor me. For that, I am greatly appreciative.

The spring of 2013 meant that I would purchase my first ever turkey tag. The Cage Ranch would be the land where I would seek my intended quarry. I took a Thursday afternoon off from work in order to get some scouting done. Turkey habitat had been planted years back, and a flock of gobblers had been seen strutting up and down the dry creek that runs through the northern part of the land. As a result of this knowledge, we made our way northeast using the cottonwood trees as cover. Hundreds of pairs of mourning doves were feeding as the afternoon turned into evening. Trying to glass every hundred yards or so, we hoped that we would spot the large birds making their way up to roost. We also paid close attention to the sandy bottom of the dry creek, as turkey scat, drag marks and feathers would indicate that we were hunting in the right area. Every so often, Bob let loose a gobbler shaker call in order to see if we would receive a response from a roaming tom. Two miles into our walk we were left smiling but confused – there was no discernable sign of the elusive target. A rare and hard rain had just graced the ranch, so there were plenty of watering holes available. Without a defined hunt zone, we decided to speculate where turkeys would be come morning.

Four thirty am arrived quickly, and the hot pot of Folgers tasted pretty good. We downed a couple of MET-Rx bars, and made our way north to the creek. The sun was rising, the air was warm and we were armed with our Beretta shotguns loaded with HEVI-Shot Magnum Blend shells. We hoped that we could intercept the turkeys as they moved from the trees to the ground. Bob and I took cover in a group of trees just off the edge of the arid river bed. We sat back to back in order to provide a 360 degree view of the territory.

We glassed and called for over an hour, but soon realized that turkeys were not present. While there was some obvious disappointment we decided to change strategies and attempt a predator hunt. I had recently invested in a FOXPRO Wildfire II, and it was a perfect time to see if the electronic call worked. We mounted the speaker on a branch about 50 yards from our blind. I selected the Lighting Jack sound while cranking up the call’s volume to twenty. It did not take but a few minutes before a big yote appeared on the berm about 150 yards east of our position. My Howa Hogue Heavybarrel 1500 .223 was unloaded and propped up on its bipod to my left. I muted the call and reached for the rifle with the ammunition in my right hand. The coyote was running at us at a high rate of speed so my movements were measured. As I raised the rifle to stare down the scope, the coyote appeared 25 yards from our position. Fearing that he would bust us, I used my left hand to activate the Fox Pro. The coyote immediately turned to his right, and started to move toward the call. I chambered a round and took aim. My movement caused the coyote to suddenly change directions, and actually run towards Bob and me. Twenty five yards turned to 10 in a matter of seconds. At that range, the coyote spotted us, and began to cascade away from our position. My first shot missed high; the next two were not even close. Realizing that my marksmanship was less than stellar, I apologized to Bob for the obvious choke-job. We set up in a few more places, but had no success. As mid-morning approached, I thanked Bob for hosting me at the ranch, and headed back to the office.

Next year I plan to take time off work and dedicate a few additional days to preparing for my turkey hunt.

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Wyoming on the Fly

There are very few opportunities to completely disengage from the day to day grind of life. Living in a wireless world allows for convenient connecting from almost anywhere at any time. Hyper-multitasking is now a requirement if you want to survive in an ultracompetitive business climate. Unfortunately, there are times when emails, voice mails and text messages become unwelcome distractions. When this feeling arises, it is time for me to fish.

Over the last five years, the end of March seems to signal my personal breaking point. The desire to escape in to a river has become a necessity if sanity is to remain a life objective. Since moving west in 2009, I make an annual journey to the North Platte River in Wyoming in order to maintain my equilibrium. The weather is always unpredictable, but the fish are big and aggressive.

Weeks before departing, I begin a ritual of unnecessary acquisitions in order to effectively prepare for the adventure. I make triplicate tackle purchases because there is a profound fear of being without the key equipment at the wrong time. While I consciously realize that most of the money I spend is unnecessary, I cannot seem to stop clicking “PayPal” after nightly “fly fishing” web searches.

The five hour drive to the river feels as though we have been teleported to Wyoming from Colorado. All available fishing reports exclaimed how prolific the action had been. We arrived just after lunch on March 26th, and quickly scrambled to get our equipment prepared for an afternoon of stalking native rainbows. After some preliminary scouting, we positioned ourselves in the tailwaters closest to the dam. Our research indicated that the fish were feeding on ample food churned up by the nightly flushes. To that point, my nymphing rig contained a purple San Juan worm as the lead fly, and a red rock worm as the trailing bait. The water was 40 degrees cold, but the air temperature was in the high 50s. A warm spring sun became visible as soon as we entered the water. This allowed us to more easily locate fish in the three to four feet of quickly moving water. Chad was the first to hook up, then Bud followed by me. The action was consistent, with 17” to 19” fish caught every fifth or sixth drift. The bows are stout in the Platte, and their strength is really felt with every inch of growth. As the sun disappeared over the horizon, a chilly 15 mph wind became more noticeable, so we ended a successful first day.

Unlike prior years, both AT&T and Verizon wireless signals were non-existent in our area, so our ability to communicate was severely marginalized. This was a unique “issue” that I actually embraced. Instead of checking voice messages, and executing web searches, we spent time talking about the events of the day over dinner. Sleeping is not an issue after a day spent on the river. A pleasant exhaustion sets in quickly after a big meal and a scotch or two.

However infrequent, when fishing becomes my sole focus, my brain becomes enveloped in the task at hand. Every movement has a purpose, and is executed with an underlying strategy in mind. While I maintain a heightened intensity, there is not the accompanied stress. I begin to appreciate the moment rather than constantly reliving the past. Mistakes are made, but do not define the gratification associated with my quest. Happiness is not derived from a monetary gain or retail purchase. Instead, my satisfaction arises from hooking and then landing a fish that I deceived.

On the third day, my friend Paul and I were fortunate to team with a great guide on a float trip down the Platte. Slade Fedore is a Wyoming native, and a master of the waters where he grew up fishing. He comes across confident, but not cocky. It does not take long to realize that he derives his satisfaction in his client’s success. To that point, he worked hard to put us on a lot of fish. Paul and I must have had twenty five double hook ups throughout the day. We were also able to witness a heard of antelope scurry from river’s edge, a bald eagle evade an angry seagull and sand hill cranes battling geese for their spot on an isolated island. We even passed two late season hunters working their GSPs on an evasive pheasant. One hundred and fifty fish later, our right arms told us to pack up and head back to town. It was a perfect Wyoming weather day so we grabbed a few Budweiser’s and a cigar. Sitting outside our cabin, we reminisced about what unfolded just hours before. Make no mistake; I will fish with Slade Fedore again.

The rivers started to fill up with anglers on Friday. The Reef attracts people from around the world, and the spring represents a great time of the year to fish. Even with a bit more pressure, plenty of big trout regularly hammered pegged eggs and rock worms. The morning produced larger fish, while the afternoon seemed to yield an infinite number of strikes.

Saturday morning was a bit somber as it meant the last morning of the trip. Inclement weather has started to move into the area, and it became cold quickly. Even so, I got up early in order to attempt to tie into a cagy North Platte monster. While I absolutely caught my share of 19” fish, the 25” bow evaded my concerted efforts.

Every spring I will travel to Wyoming in order to conduct personal therapy in the North Platte. It is cheaper than a psychiatrist, and the pictures are better. This trip is not about fishing; it is revitalization of my soul. I value every second on the water, and begin to dream about coming back as I depart.

Equipment Utilized

Comments

William Joseph Confluence Pack

Awesome pack. All critical equipment is easily accessible.

William Joseph Conduit Bag

Fantastic bag that you can pack all of your tackle in (even reels).

William Joseph Odyssey Travel Bag

Plenty of room for weeks of travel.

William Joseph Drynamic Waders

Very comfortable, accessible pockets and at a great price.

William Joseph Runoff Jacket

Perfect on a perfect day….not warm enough when the sun is not out.

Under Armour Cold Gear Compression (top & bottom)

Would not fish in the fall, winter or spring without them.

Under Armour Hitch Heavy Boot Socks

Toes were chilly in the 40 degree water, but I never had to exit the river.

Orvis River Guard Easy-On Brogue Wader Boots

Perfect wader boot. Easy on and off. Grips tightly to slippery rocks.

Simms Windstopper Hat

Windstopper technology helps, but I need a warmer lid next year.

Elkhorn T2 Reel

Have not had an issue in four years.

Brodin Ghost Series Frying Pan Net

Expensive but really nice – secure it well as you don’t want to lose it.

Orvis Mirage Fluorocarbon Tippet (3x)

Stayed strong throughout the entire trip – not one break off.

Maui Jim Seawall Sunglasses

Polarized with spring hinges for my big head – perfect.

Wyoming Fly Fishing Guide Service

HIGHLY recommend Slade Fedore (wyotroutbum@hotmail.com)

GoPro Hero2 – Click on the links

http://youtu.be/pCUfmC8tH3k http://youtu.be/C3F_q2pgucI

 

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25 to the Net

My friend Mike gave me a call early in the week, and asked me to fish with him on Sunday. The President’s Day holiday meant that my son’s sports would end on Saturday, so Sunday was wide open. Given both of our evening commitments, the options were limited to ninety minutes from home base. That means The South Platte River near Deckers, and The Arkansas, are the closest bodies of water that can be accessed. I had not fished since early fall, so I was excited at the opportunity to unwind in a river. Winter fly fishing in Colorado tail waters is special. The opportunity to hook up in February is such a unique experience for a native New Englander. A twelve month season allows anglers to escape at their convenience. If you can withstand the variable weather conditions, there are big fish to be had.

I don’t need an alarm when hunting or fishing is the activity of the upcoming day. To that point, I jumped out of bed at 5 am to prepare to pursue native rainbows. Mike, Luke, Tim and I arrived at the river at about 7:45 am. There were a few other vehicles in the parking lot, but those fishermen had taken a route away from our favorite holes. All of our rods were already rigged, so once the waders and jackets were on, we hurried to the prime spots. During my ten minute dash, I spotted a bald eagle at the very top of a tree; we were both searching for the same quarry.

I picked a section of the river where I have had past success. The fish gather at the end of a thirty foot long shallow riffle that drops quickly into four feet of water moving at 55 CFS (Cubic Feet Per Second). Sporadic cloud cover prohibited me from seeing fish, but I knew the rainbows would be moving into the area as the day warmed. My flies of choice were a #18 flashback pheasant tail on top with a Mike Duerr #20 Yong’s Special as the trailing bait. I tie the flies together with Orvis Mirage Fluorocarbon 5x tippet and use a single Dinsmores BB to get to the required depth.

Trees line the shoreline, so lengthy roll casts are the only safe way to reach my intended targets. Ten drifts did not result in a strike, so I changed positions as well as increased the space between my Thingamabobber and the pheasant tail. As the rig reached the end of its drift, the line stopped and I set the hook. The fished moved quickly up the water column, and spit the hook. Disappointed, I restarted the process to see if I could entice another hit. My friends moved into the spot, and positioned themselves around the large pool. As the first bug hatch of the morning unfolded, everyone began to hook up. Disappointedly, I struggled to keep the larger fish on once the fight began. One big bow actually broke me off at the leader. Once I composed myself, I changed patterns. My Yong’s Special was still my trailer fly, but I put a tangerine soft milk egg on top. Eventually, I started to get in a groove, and my confidence improved as fish were brought to the net.

It was pretty cool to see my neighbor, Luke, take his first fish on a fly. He was a natural nympher, hooking up many times throughout the day. Fly fishing is not an easy sport; technique is almost as important as experience. Luke has neither, yet his production was that of a wily veteran. His success was lauded by the group.

As 2 pm approached, Mike and Tim suggested that we make our way home. I gave the final “last cast” call and flipped my flies upstream. After an initial mend, I achieved the appropriate float. As my indicator neared the end of the run, it went under with force. I raised my right wrist to set the hook, and the fish screamed down river. A ten minute fight ensued, and concluded when a kind stranger netted the brightly colored male trout. He congratulated me for catching “the largest fish” he had seen taken from the river, and we released the rainbow back to the pool.

On our way back to Parker, we stopped to have a couple of beers and reminisce about our success. A warm February day on the water is time well spent.

 

Equipment Employed

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My 2012-2013 Season Ends

My last hunting trip of the 2012-2013 pheasant season started out like any other journey to Eastern, Colorado; up at 4:00 am, out the door by 4:50 am and adjacent to my favorite field by 7:45 am. The temperature was sixteen degrees, and there was a subtle ten mph wind easing its way in from the northwest. The conditions were great, but I felt I was about forty five minutes behind schedule. My gut told me that the birds had already made their way into the corn fields where they could not be pursued. Pride and I quickly worked our way through the shin high CRP. I knew that if there were birds to be had, they would be holding tight in the deeper cover along the draw at the end of the field. Pride has often sought our quarry in this field, and he knows when to turn on his afterburners. Not dissimilar to our last trip, we moved quickly through the one hundred and fifty yards of brush but never encountered a bird. It was the second trip in a row that my honey hole failed to produce results.

The night before the trip, I phoned a rancher friend who had allowed Pride and me to hunt his land on three occasions during the season. For over two seasons, I never received a positive answer to my question “would it be possible to walk your land with my dog”. Honestly, I developed a complex as landowners repeatedly denied my requests to access their property. Unfortunately, my appeal to make a final tour of his prime real estate was denied. He emphasized the need to end the season early in order to give the birds a “break”. Nevertheless, I stopped by the house to drop off a case of bud light, and a personal thank you card addressed to the family.

Pride and I headed one half mile east then unloaded next to a large grass field that abutted corn. The snow that blanketed this field three weeks before was almost gone, and had unfortunately matted down the already sparse cover. We employed a zigzag pattern in order to cover ground, and perhaps confuse a running rooster. Pride did get hot as we marched towards the end of the field. When he slowed down and began to sniff in circles, I prepared myself for action. It took about thirty seconds, but a hen jumped up thirty yards in front of me. A few “no bird” calls had Pride ready to continue our walk west. Thirty minutes later we loaded up, and maneuvered to another favorite area about four miles southeast of our position. When I arrived at the field, there were already three trucks surrounding the area so I moved on. Pride and I spent the next hour covering an enormous field that did not show any signs of life. Disappointed but undeterred, we headed to town to fill up the Dodge Ram 1500, and get some food.

With a Monster Rehab energy drink and some jerky in hand, I stared at the map to determine our next move. Another hunter pulled into the market so I asked him how his day was going. He described an all too familiar story; working two dogs, he was able to get some birds in the air, but not close enough to attempt a shot. I asked him if he would like to hunt together to see if we could improve our odds. He responded with enthusiastic “yes”, so we began to collaborate on an afternoon strategy.

With a renewed focus, we drove further east towards some pivots that we hoped had not been mowed down. About five miles into the drive, Tom slowed and waived me up. He had noticed a one hundred yard row of evergreens in a walk in area just off the adjacent road. The plan was simple; I would drive to the east and work Pride west, and he would counter that with his two Brittany spaniels. I quickly made my way west, weaving between the fifteen foot evergreens. As Pride neared Gunner and Major, all dogs simultaneously turned quickly in the direction of the road. A rooster busted from the tree line, and flew straight back to the east. The tip of one tree prohibited me from executing an immediate shot, so I jumped forward and reset my position. My first shot from my Beretta A400 XPLR Light 12 gauge missed high, but the next shot knocked the bird down immediately. Pride ran furiously at the mortally wounded pheasant, and brought him to my hand. We thanked the dogs for their efforts, exchanged congratulations, and then continued on our way. The excitement level had suddenly intensified for all participants.

The next four pivots we hunted appeared amazing, but produced nothing. We hunted every inch of the dense CRP, hoping to move birds into the surrounding corn fields. Unfortunately, two miles of stalking produced only one startled hen. We continued our drive north towards Nebraska with the hope that the extra miles of driving would eventually pay off. We came across a unique walk in area that had knee-high grass surrounding a dense and long plum thicket. Tom, Gunner and Major took the right side of the trees, while Pride and I moved left. About half way through the walk south, Pride became birdy. Nose down and tail vigorously moving, he began to demonstrate signs of a pheasant in our presence. I readied for a shot but nothing happened. Tom and his dogs turned the corner around the plum thicket, and marched southeast. We both acknowledged that our dogs were in pursuit of moving prey, and the pace suddenly quickened. Pride moved to my right, and ran hard to the edge of the field. Tom was positioned about fifty yards to my right, and we expected the dogs were on a crafty cock bird. When Pride started to forcefully dig his nose in a clump of grass, a rooster jumped just inches from his head. As the bird took flight, all three dogs started their chase. The bird flew low which caused me to delay a shot as Major was in my field of vision. Tom, however, had a clear shot and knocked the bird out of the sky with his Winchester SX3 20 gauge.

It was now 4 pm, and we needed to quickly make our way to our last field of the day. The land that I had in mind always has birds moving from corn to cover as night approaches. As we drove up to the edge of the CRP, birds were already taking flight. We quickly piled out of the trucks, and jumped into the tall grass. The dogs were moving with determination as they obviously knew pheasants were sprinting away from us. After five hundred yards we turned back toward the west with the hope that some of the birds that we passed would hold tight. Unfortunately, these late season pheasants have been conditioned to outwit their pursuers. As the sun set, we watched the running birds take flight against the red sky. While we were disappointed that a shot never presented itself, the scene that unfolded in front of us was pretty awesome.

My 2012-2013 pheasant season appeared bleak at the outset. The drought that has savaged Colorado over the last 12 months was clearly visible to the not so discerning eye. Farmers, ranchers and landowners were all suffering, and so were the birds that depend on the habitat to survive. Hopefully, significant precipitation hits the region soon, and solves what is becoming an ever worsening problem. While the number of birds I harvested was far less than last year, I still had an amazing time. November cannot come soon enough.

Equipment Used in the Field

Shotgun

Beretta A400 XPLR Light 12 gauge, modified Trulock choke

I love this semiautomatic. I have a couple of fancy O/U’s, but they sit in the safe for a reason. This gun is light and reliable. I have had only two jams in three years. Unfortunately, it came in the midst of two amazing flushes. Cleaning the weapon is intimidating, but can be accomplished. This is will be my upland shotgun for a very long time.

Pack

Badlands’ Birdvest

Badlands is known for their big game packs and clothing. That said their upland pack is awesome. My favorite components are the two magnetic shell holders that sit on either side of the waist buckle. When it is cold, and you are scrambling to reload, these pouches provide quick access to the necessary ammunition. Badlands must redesign the elastic shell holder as twelve gauge shells fall out easily. I would also recommend deeper external webbing.

Jacket

Cabela’s Activ-Lite Upland Jacket

Comfortable jacket that can be used as a top layer on colder days. The jacket blocks the wind, while maintaining a loose fit.

Base Layer

Nike Pro Combat

I like wearing this product from Nike. The material really wicks away moisture and keeps you warm.

Boots

Irish Setter King Toe DSS 820

My best buy in 2011. These boots are comfortable, and can be worn in temperatures in the low single digits. I put a ton of miles on these boots and never suffered a blister or an injured foot.

Socks

Smartwool

These socks are so comfortable that I purchased 5 pair. My feet stay dry and warm.

Sunglasses

Oakley Scalpel

I am not an Oakley guy, but these are great shades. When it is bright or I am fishing, I wear the dark polarized lenses. When there is little sunlight, I put in the yellow lenses. Oakley’s are expensive, but my Scalpels have been a worthwhile investment.

Truck

Dodge Ram 1500 (2011)

The truck has operated flawlessly over the last 15 months. I did destroy two of my Goodyear tires, and had to make an unexpected investment in four new Hancook tires.

Gloves

Under Armour

Work very well when the temperature drops. I often debate putting them on as I want to maintain the proper feel of my shotgun.

Hat

Under Armour

I own five of these hats. Unfortunately, they get misshapen quickly and do not last. Sort of disappointing.

Camera

GoPro Hero 2

Of course I never had the camera on when I found birds. When it is turned on, the quality is great.

Dog (Pride)

Bred and trained by Gary Ruppel (Kiowa Creek Kennels)

Gary is the best in the business. He is a straightforward, kind and honest man. He also breeds/trains great dogs. What more could you want?

 

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Working Hard so I can Hunt, Fish and Golf