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Leather Gloves : A Tool for bird hunters
With a profound swoosh of wings, the covey flew down the tree line. Most veered off to the left, disappearing through the foliage. Others settled down, close to or just beyond a tangled mess of brush. The dogs quickly retrieved two quail that had been shot from the initial flush. We found where the birds had crossed over, even scaring up singles while pushing through a lattice framework from a bristly plum thicket. After emerging, we carefully climbed over a rusty barbwire fence, then carefully passed a briar patch of thorns before finding more bobwhite quail. If it were not for our leather hand coverings, navigating the things that tried to cut scratch, tear, and poke us, would’ve been painful and annoying.
The Italian American Job
As a third-generation descendant of poor Italian immigrants, I have had firsthand experience with the famed culture of frugality for which they are known. This includes some unconventional culinary habits practiced as part of their peasantry traditions. These traditions were born out of necessity. Not only did they come here in the early 1900’s with nothing, but most left families in Italy who had also lived there for generations with nothing. An outflow of their need to subsist on so little was a well documented custom of poaching. This was also born out of what they saw as necessity, needing to find ways to feed their families by any available means.
BIRD HUNTING IN THE FORLOH HOODED “PUFFY” JACKET
The first modern down jacket was invented and patented in the 1930s. It was born out of necessity after a near-fatal outdoor experience with hypothermia. Commonly referred to as a puffy jacket, or simply puffy, is a quilted jacket, typically insulated with either duck or goose down feathers. Soon after its inception it became a popular garment worn during winter sport activities but slowly began to move away from its original utilitarian purpose. For years, outdoorsmen and those involved in the shooting sports seemed to have moved to using soft-shell jackets while hunting.
Changing Cover. Hunting Pheasants in Different Habitats.
Imagine observing roosters run ahead down rows of corn or milo until the birds reach the end of the field and then sneak into an adjoining wetland area, surrounded on one side by a golden field of short-grass prairie with brushy draws. This scenario has pheasant hunters in a variety of habitats. When hunting pheasants, cover can change over the course in a matter of minutes. Therefore, the hunting style pheasant hunters employ should reflect that. Pheasants will utilize every inch of habitat to their advantage if it helps them live another day. The court jesters of the Midwest are akin to adapting when fields get harvested or sloughs dry up. Hunting pressure pushes them out from one area to another. Hunters need to adapt to various habitats that pheasants use.
The Last Lone Star Birds
Prior to European settlement, the historical range of the Greater Prairie Chicken occupied a massive chunk of North America. Mid-continental grasslands boasted jaw dropping amounts of birds too great to number. What felt like an inexhaustible population would eventually fall prey to humanity’s insatiable greed for more, however. Market hunting and modern land development have delivered two colossal blows this icon of the plains will sadly never recover from fully. And while Greater Prairie Chickens aren’t necessarily on the edge of extinction, there is a subspecies of the bird facing perilous times in the coastal prairies of Texas.
In Praise of Butterballs
It was a dazzling mid-October day. A set of blocks sat motionless on the lake's glasslike surface, the sun glistening sharply off their ridiculously bright forms. The day had been slow at best; a handful of mallards had given us a few looks early in the morning, but we had nothing to show for our efforts besides a few mosquito bites and the beginning of a sunburn.
Rabbit Massacre
After eating my way through the holidays last year, I desperately needed some exercise, so when a couple of my buddies said they wanted to go pheasant hunting, I called my friend, Casey, who’s got access to thousands of acres of prime habitat in Oklahoma’s panhandle and booked a trip. Considering the limited success I have, it’s a miracle that I still go, but such is my relationship with pheasant hunting. If I happen to bag a bird, great, but if not, it’s not the end of the world, as there are peripheral benefits to be found on every pheasant hunt. I get to stretch my legs. I get to watch the dogs work. And whether I bring a bird home or not, I get to make another memory.
The Smith Setter Celebration
It’s tough to beat the warm days and cool nights of Georgia in the Spring. The high heat and humidity, the kind that drives field trailers in droves to the Dakotas, the Rockies, or Canada, hasn’t yet hit. The sounds of songbirds float on the light-variable winds, while the thundering gobbles of Eastern wild turkeys echo through the fields and draws. Bird doggers hear them, but they’re really listening for the ‘poor Bob White’ whistle. Gentleman Bob has been an important part of life on the land off of Ben Hatcher Road for a long time.
Tall Timbers: Burning Down the House
I’ve heard of folks figuring out the price tag on costs to raise wild quail, but I don’t know of anyone who has kept track of the amount of time that goes into the breeding, training and developing of a championship gun dog. Both are significant. Take that dog number, multiply it by 55, and you’ll have one heck of a lot of hours all represented in the dogs that qualified to run across 28 braces in the February 2025 National Championship for Bird Dogs held at Ames Plantation. The first brace of this 126-year old Super Bowl caliber event commenced on February 10th . The final brace ran over two weeks later on February 27, and during that time weather conditions ranged from a soggy, below-freezing 22 degrees Fahrenheit day to a 75-degree Fahrenheit sweat lodge. If you don’t like the weather in Grand Junction then wait five minutes.
See You At The Dance
Arguably, the most coveted days on a bird hunter’s calendar are the ones where he or she is actually hunting. Those days are the summit of a year-long hike through the day-to-day of dog training, vet bills, hard earned paychecks, and sheer anticipation of what is to come. There are few things we would trade them for. But when seasons have come to a close and winter has laid the earth to a silent, seemingly lifeless rest, where does a bird-afflicted hunter turn to? What can be done to satiate the need for adventure that doesn’t end with the close of upland seasons?
Don’t Chicken Out Of Hunting Chickens
“Flump! Flump! Flump!” sent soundwaves tingling through my ears, followed by the crack
Filson’s Ridgeway Fleece Pullover
Filson has a knack for integrating history into everything they stitch together. They seem to be able to bring back to life or reinvent pieces of history in the form of garments to handle the tough struggles of outdoorsmen. Filson is synonymous with high quality and durable materials. Their clothing and gear are made to withstand the rigors of the wild outdoors and built to last a lifetime. Some Filson pieces almost possess an heirloom quality and status. Clothing is constructed for long-term use and the company relies on using materials that offers protection from the elements and environment for a wide range of activities. Putting on almost anything Filson, is like transforming oneself into a rugged folkloric Paul Bunyan type figure.
Tick Check
When it comes to ticks, the only thing you need to know is that they should be avoided at all costs. Nothing good comes from an association with a tick. They’ll latch on to you, your dog, your wife and kids, your horses, and anything else they can sink their grubby meat hooks into. Diseased ticks can leave you sick for the rest of your life.
A Day In The Mash
“Find em!” The rally cry was given to the eager pack of beagles. They excitedly hit the cover, noses to the ground, their tails wagging furiously . My son Steve and I had met his Uncle Gary Sanderson for a rabbit hunt. Having been with Gary once before at Thanksgiving and hearing his dogs in action, I knew we were in for a real treat.
The Hunt Goes On
In the early 70s bird hunting was at its peak in Eastern North Carolina. I was a youngster still and loved to tag along on hunts with family and longed to have my own dogs. It was about this time that I attended my first bird dog field trial, a horseback event being held near my Uncle Henry’s farm. It was there that I first remember meeting Dr. W.C. Sanderson. He was there to compete as was his brother “Dute” Sanderson, a popular local professional dog trainer.
