Tag Archives: Colorado

Family, Hunting

The 225 Mile U Turn

I can recall almost every hunt that Echo and I have experienced over the last 5 years. There are some hunts however that stand out because something remarkable occurs. Most often it is Echo doing something so tremendous that the moment is emblazoned in my mind forever. 

On this cold December day, Echo and I took the long drive to our favorite farm in Wray, Colorado. The plan was to meet up with a good friend and his dog by mid-morning. I know the area well, and I wanted to hunt a piece of land that we had not hit too many times over the last few years. The cows had not been let into both the north and southwest corners, so the cover circling the corn field was dense enough to hold birds. The wind was blowing over 10 mph from the northeast, so we started our walk from the opposite corner. Echo and I took a circuitous route to the end of the southwest corner so we hopefully would catch a pheasant napping. Once we got 20 yards out from the combination of grass and tumbleweeds, Echo started to get birdy. While I knew that we were in business, I was feeling a bit groggy from the long drive. When the rooster busted 15 yards to my right, I struggled to square up to the speedy bird. Two shots later, Echo paused her run as she realized that I had missed. My apology was heard, and we continued our work along the edge of the corn field. Echo will point when a bird freezes, and just moments after my failure, she stopped in her tracks. When she suddenly popped up, it caused the rooster to take flight. One shot of HEVI-METAL #4 knocked the bird out of the air.

With a bird in the vest, we continued our walk north into the next corner. There is tumbleweed filled ditches that surround this part of the field. Many times, the birds will evade our pursuit by carefully navigating these channels. About halfway through the middle of the northwest corner, Echo started to move with a purpose. While no birds took flight, I believed that she was pursuing more than one of the targeted species. As we approached the four rung barbed wire fence that abutted a ditch, Echo elevated into beast mode. Fueled by the scent of our quarry, my dog exploded through the bottom rung, but she caught a buckle of her chest protector on a single barb. That contact caused the entire vest to tear off her body. Once I put the fragments of the material in my pack, we started to work both sides of the ditch heading east. Echo remained hot but were not able to get the runners to fly.

My friend Oneal finally arrived, and he and Marley took the north side of the tree line that paralleled the two ditches we had just been hunting. As we walked west, Echo became excited as the northeast wind told her that birds were still present. Once Echo stopped and turned to our right, a rooster got up from the ditch and flew across the road. My first shot was behind the bird, but my next round knocked the bird to the ground. Unfortunately, the long shot was not lethal, and the speedy cock ran through the ditch and under the first fence. Echo was in full stride as she circumvented the lowest wire. She tore across the northwest corner just a few yards behind the bird. As the pheasant cut left it went under a second and then a third barbed wire fence. Echo tackled the bird, and headed back to me with the rooster in her mouth. After grabbing the bird, I noticed that my hand was covered in blood. It only took a few seconds to realize that Echo’s ear was split in half, and blood was gushing everywhere. It took me 30 minutes to slow the bleeding, and make the decision to head home. Almost 4 hours later, we arrived at the veterinarian, and Echo was stitched up.

This was the first major injury Echo suffered in all of our days spent in the field. Unfortunately, it would not be the last. On our first hunting trip after her ear had healed, Echo tore her knee open at some point during the day. The wounds Echo suffered shook me up. I thought I was prepared for handling my dog’s in-field ordeals. I wasn’t, and I am not sure how I am going improve my veterinarian skills.

Hunting

Wild Birds

Season four with Echo had many memorable highlights. While birds in Eastern Colorado were not as abundant as in past years, she and I managed to get it done more often than not. There was one specific day in December that proved to be the most incredible I have ever witnessed in my years in the field.

Greg and I rolled into Yuma just after 8 am. The night before I received permission to hunt a fantastic half section of native grass just south of town. I hunted this property throughout the early part of the season, and I had taken a few roosters while seeing many more. The dogs hit the field with excitement as we made our way to the initial edge of the thigh-high cover. Not dissimilar to previous walks, there were birds present, but they all flushed wild. Seventy-five minutes later, and with no shots taken, Greg and I regrouped at the truck to debate what we would do next.

I have additional private access just west of town, and there are some good WIAs within minutes of our location. Taking a calculated risk, we made the decision to travel an hour east in order to hunt an exquisite farm just north of Wray. As we entered town, we noticed a blanket of fresh snow covering the ground. The newly discovered conditions brought great anticipation for the day ahead. As we drove to my favorite spot in Colorado, we pulled over to evaluate a corner where we have access. I noticed a hen sitting on a plum thicket branch about two feet above the snowy ground. She got fidgety and took off. An unseen rooster followed her, and then forty birds exploded from their hidden positions. Greg and I looked at one another and smiled.

We quietly approached the half section of CRP with a realistic expectation to find a lot of birds. Two cornfields border the 320 acres of tall grass, making this property an ideal environment for housing wild pheasants. As we walked north towards a perfectly designed shelterbelt, birds suddenly started to appear in every direction. Echo and I were still seventy-five yards from the trees when the action began. Literally two hundred pheasants took flight in groups of twenty. Picking up the pace Echo and I finally made it to the east side of the pines. As birds continued to fly in waves from their hiding spots, they veered away from me once they noticed my conspicuous location. I took a futile shot at a rooster that briefly appeared before vanishing from my vantage point. Echo remained focused as her senses were sharp given the number of birds that had been present. She and I made our way around to the backside of the windbreak, and a hen busted followed by a rooster. I mounted my shotgun and followed the bird to my right. One shot crumpled him, and Echo made a quick retrieve.

Echo and I limited out in less than an hour. We saw more wild pheasants on this one day then during ten trips combined last season. It was good to see these magnificent animals flourishing in ideal habitat.

A Colorado Pheasant Hunt – December 15, 2019

Hunting

Failure

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“We pray our sights be straight and our aim be true.  We pray for no pain to the game we pursue. We thank you, Lord for this land. We thank you for the sights from our stands. We pray for safety one and all.  We pray we may return in the fall.”

-Camille Pissaro

Failure brings on all types of undesirable emotions. For me, failure usually creates a gut-wrenching, remorseful reaction to whatever I was attempting to accomplish. Many times, these feelings negatively impact my frame of mind for the foreseeable future.

On the second day of Colorado’s deer rifle season, my plan involved putting myself in an advantageous position before sunup.  I drove down the main road leaving headquarters at a quickened pace. It was 5 am, 33 degrees and shooting light was over an hour away. Towards the end of five mile road a truck was parked about 150 yards inside the entrance to the Ranch. I cautiously pulled my pickup next to his vehicle. He was an older man dressed in camo, highlighted with the proper amount of hunter’s orange. He told me that he was waiting to contact the owner of the property.  I asked him who he was specifically looking for. When he could not come up with a name, I politely asked him to leave. As he turned his truck around, I looked up the hill to the west, and saw the outline of the buck that poacher was eyeing. I trained my binoculars on him, and I was able to discern that he was a deer that I wanted to take.

I grabbed my rifle and bipod, and made my way across the cattle guard. The buck was feeding uphill, and he did not seem aware of my presence. I put my rifle into the bipod, and got comfortable. The buck was 151 yards from my shooting position, and he decided to lay down. The sun was coming up behind me, so I felt confident that I could remain concealed until I was permitted to shoot him. About thirty minutes later, the buck stood up and took two steps to his left. With my crosshairs on his shoulder, I squeezed the trigger. The buck kicked hard, and spun around as he fell to the ground. I stood up, as I thought the animal was fatally wounded.  Suddenly, he raised up, obviously injured, but able to walk. I attempted to shoot him off hand, but I missed.  He made his way over the hill heading southwest.  I ran towards the buck, realizing that I needed to kill him before he got beyond from my effective range. The noise I made startled the wounded deer, and he unexpectedly turned and jumped the adjacent fence and then ran across the highway. Recognizing that the animal was hurt, I made the difficult decision to pursue him, even though I would no longer be in my game management unit. I know the pasture where he entered, and I scoured the land both on foot and in my truck.  This section of the Ranch abuts the neighbor’s property just one mile to the north. That landowner leases his land to an outfitter who charges a lot of money for guided hunts. The deer needed to be recovered before he became inaccessible. As I drove to the north end of the land, the injured deer jumped from his bedded position, and he made his way over the fence.  My heart sank as I drove to the fence line, and watched him limp away at fifty yards.  I quickly received permission from the ranch manager to take the deer, but I hesitated because I figured that the outfitter would be present.  Recognizing I was shaken up, I took a few deep breaths, and I tried to collect myself. I drove to an area where I had both mobile reception, as well as data access.  My objective was to contact the outfitter, and determine if he was hunting with clients.  It took me well over one hour to figure out who was leasing the property, as well as to find his mobile number. Soon after getting the outfitter on the line, he accused me of trespassing, lying, and many other unseemly acts. He threatened to call the CPW, and told me to expect a hefty fine. Recognizing that I had done nothing wrong, I called the CPW, and asked them to meet me at the Ranch. The officers listened to my story, and completed an extensive investigation of the incident. Hours later, they absolved me of any wrongdoing, and offered to help me locate the deer.  Despite looking all over the pasture for two hours, we could not find him. Discouraged, embarrassed, and angry, I packed up and headed for home.

I have replayed my initial shot multiple times over the last couple of weeks. I cannot determine what occurred on such a routine shot. My subsequent range work did not reveal the issue, as my aim proved to be spot-on. The guilt I feel for wounding the deer will never leave me.  I accept responsibility for my failure, and I hope it will never happen again.

Business, Family, Fishing, Golf, Hunting, Music

Living Life

In just about 10 months, I will turn 50 years old.  While my personal demise does not preoccupy my daily thoughts, it is hard to avoid the reality of the situation.  If I am lucky, I have 25 to 30 years left on the planet.  That being the case, I have a lot that I want to accomplish in a short period of time.  In no specific order, here are some of the things that I will do before the lights go out.  If possible, I would like to experience many of these quests with my wife and 2 sons.

  • Learn to Play a Guitar – As a lifelong metalhead, I have and continue to admire the musical abilities of Tony Iommi, Randy Rhodes, Eddie Van Halen and Darrell Abbott. On July 29th, I will take a guitar lesson from Kyle Shutt.  Kyle is a founding member of the band, The Sword.  He is a talented and accomplished artist who kindly agreed to mentor me.  I am not sure if I can learn to play the guitar, but I am going to try.
  • Own and Operate a Company – I have been an employee for almost 30 years. I appreciate the majority of my employers, and the opportunities they have provided me. That said, I want to own my own company.  It does not matter what type of company.  My years of business experience, coupled with a desire to collaborate with focused and committed people, will ensure the success of this company.  It is only a matter of time before I discover the right opportunity.
  • Hunt a Bull Elk – When I think of hunting the Western half of the United States, the first animal that I think of is an elk. I want to put my evolving predator skills to the test, and challenge myself both mentally and physically.  The good news is that I live in a Colorado where elk run wild.  Admittedly, this hunt intimidates me given my inexperience, and the intense planning & preparation involved.  It would be ideal if I could recruit a veteran big game hunter like Randy Newberg, Nate Simmons or Steven Rinella to provide me their professional insight.  If I am unable to convince a seasoned veteran to assist me, I will figure it out on my own.  Ty (12) is ready to complete his hunter safety course, and Jesse (10) is less than 2 years away.  They will make fine hunting partners sometime soon.
  • Fly Fish New Zealand – I want to catch big, native trout in a majestic environment. Videos I watch validate that those who fly fish New Zealand have opportunities to engage monster fish.  I am told that these fish don’t receive consistent pressure, and they are not shy when it comes to attacking a fly.  In addition to working on my casting proficiency, I will begin to train Ty and Jesse on fly fishing basics.  They already have the angling bug, it is now time to evolve our skills.
  • Hunt Pheasants in South Dakota – My favorite activity in life is bird hunting. If there is a mecca for upland hunters, it is the state of South Dakota.  Friends have told me that the birds are so thick, it can be difficult to pick a rooster out to shoot. Echo, my gundog, is 18 months old.  She and I enjoyed many adventures during her first year in the field.  Echo and I are ready for the 8-hour ride to rooster paradise.
  • Golf Ireland (again) – Back in 2000, some friends and I golfed the east coast of Ireland. We had the time of our lives.  The landscape is incredible, the people are kind and the courses are historic.  It is time to go back, and do it again with a true appreciation for the experience.  To do the trip with my sons and wife would make it ideal.
  • Write a Book – I need to figure out the general subject matter, then go for it. It would be great if the book was commercially successful, but that is not my motivation.  I want it to be good, and I cannot continue to procrastinate.  Tim Ferriss says to write “two crappy pages a day”.  That does not seem insurmountable.
  • Offer Help – I try to lead a selfless, generous and empathetic life. That said, when I do the occasional candid self-evaluation, I realize that I don’t do enough for others.  Of course, I try to extend myself for family and friends.  That is generally easy because I love the person that I am helping.  What I am talking about is being proactively available to strangers.  Actually, assisting people I don’t know.  I am passionate about upland hunting.  Despite my relative newness to the sport, I am 100% engaged.  There are many people that dream about walking a grassy field, alongside a bird dog, with a chance to mount a shotgun at a cackling rooster.  Many of those people might never get that opportunity. Perhaps I can be the person that will introduce them to an unforgettable moment.

As time progresses, I will hopefully minimize this list.  When inspired, I will add ambitious life objectives to it. When I accomplish a feat, I will opine on it in writing.  Completing this article commits me to the journey.  Let’s go!

Family, Hunting

Something to Remind You

On February second my wonderful gun dog Pride, passed on.  He was thirteen and one half years old, and his health was deteriorating.  We were fortunate to adopt Pride at seven years old, after his original owner lost a long battle with cancer.  His personality was unique for a seasoned gun dog.  In the field, Pride demonstrated all of the characteristics of an accomplished bird hunter.  He could locate evasive roosters, and retrieve downed birds out of the thickest cover.  At home, Pride was quiet and reserved. He loved to be loved, and that was obvious by the way he responded to our family.

The most special moment in my hunting life occurred during my first ever pheasant opener in 2011. In our initial field, Pride located a half dozen roosters, and I missed every shot. I had pheasant fever, and my confidence was shaken.  In the early afternoon, hunting became difficult when temperatures hit the lower sixties, and the wind blew at twenty miles per hour.  We were walking a public CRP field just northeast of Holyoke, Colorado.  About two thirds of the way into the quarter section of native grass, Pride stopped on a hard point.  He was not a pointing lab, but his posture was unmistakable.  Realizing that a pheasant was present, I started to make my way over to my focused dog.  The bird must have started to run right as Pride suddenly moved left. When Pride shuffled, the rooster took flight.  I shouldered my A400 and fired. The bird tumbled from the sky, and fell over a nearby hill.  Pride was already in a full sprint when the rooster landed in the waist-high grass.  Almost immediately, I began to second guess my shot.  Was that a rooster or hen?  Did I make a lethal shot?  My anxiousness disappeared when I saw Pride running towards me with the colorful bird in his mouth.  I just shot my first wild pheasant.

Thank you Pride.  Thank you for teaching me how to be a bird hunter.  Thank you for your patience, love and kindness.  Thank you for being my partner in many amazing adventures.  Rest in peace my man.

Something to Remind You