Article Database
These page is loaded with Featured Articles
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
DOVES: From the Field, to Cleaning, to Eating
It’s that time of the year when we find ourselves gathered with family, friends, and strangers positioned around a cut grain or sunflower field waiting for those September gray birds to come screaming in. Dogs will sit idly by, panting as they await anxiously for doves to be interrupted in midflight with shot. As the first flight comes in, a barrage of gunfire will thunderously erupt, signaling that hunting season has arrived. Dove hunters will instantly feel the excitement by the heat of expended shotshells, yells from strangers saying “Comin’ at ya!”, and the sweat running down backs and necks as sun rays pour from the blue sky as summer still holds on tightly.
Twice Bitten
For a fourteen-year-old, truth can be illusive. In many cases it’s hard to sort out and in other instances it’s just as plain as the nose on your face. I do know one thing that was true; it was well into November, and it hadn’t rained in Amite County since July. The farmers had fed out all their hay and were hoping to get winter rye into the ground before the December frosts, but they needed a rain.
Turkey Stand
It was four in the morning, and still dark outside when Charlie woke his son Avery. They had to get going early for the hunting trip. Charlie didn't make a big breakfast. He just boiled some eggs for the road. Boiled eggs worked well sitting by a tree all day. He would also take along canned Vienna sausages - the tiny meat logs crowded into a gelatinous ooze that Avery loved.
The Master
One of my earliest memories is the smell of the Hoppes gun oil my dad would use on his Sweet 16 Browning after a bird hunt. He and my uncles would tell stories of 30 coveys a day, of the “ditch bank birds”, those bobs that would provide great sport by scattering out down a line, giving the gunners an easy opportunity. Tales of limits by lunchtime and perfectly broke pointers and setters kept my interest high. Like a puppy, I wanted desperately to go with the men on a real bird hunt but was deemed too immature.
`Upland` Chaps
The snow had begun to accumulate. Measuring just high enough that each boot step would certainly put me into almost ten inches of the white stuff. The landscape was wet with freshly fallen snow. Its weight had pushed down all the dried, tan switchgrass that fall and winter brings. I opened the back half of the truck’s cab to get to my gear bag. I unzipped the main compartment and pulled out matching tan chaps. They were quickly put on over my pants and secured. An hour into my hunt, I quickly found the chaps sole purpose that day was to keep me dry. I had pushed though snow-laden grass, flushing roosters who had taken to burrowing themselves in small openings to get out of the weather. If I had not worn chaps, I would’ve been one wet and cold bird hunter.
Zen and Sharing Space With Bears and Snakes
While planning a trip to Montana a friend asked me if the possibility of running into a bear or snake was “over hyped or a real concern?” After some thought, my answer “both” wasn’t very helpful in easing his mind. But it is true - while the odds of an encounter go up exponentially in the country either dreaded species inhabits. The sheer volume of hunters, fishers, and hikers flooding the space makes the odds of you actually being the one who gets bitten or mauled impossibly low. Put another way, you have to play the lotto to win, but when was the last time you won the jackpot? That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be prepared, but common sense often goes out the window when we head west with our fears in tow.
WHAT TO WEAR? THAT IS THE QUESTION.
What do I wear for bird hunting? Is a valid and common question asked by new bird hunters. The answers they receive will be on both sides of the spectrum. From the very basic to high-tech. Comfort and protection are paramount when hunting the uplands, as they can be versatile in every aspect of the hunt. There’s a style to the upland ruggedness we hunt. What bird hunters wear must allow them to walk comfortably and if need be, crash through heavy and unruly thickets, brambles, thick cover, as well as up and over rough terrain in mild to extreme conditions. Wear what makes you comfortable and what you can afford, while still maintaining breathability, warmth, dryness, and durability. These attributes make for upland field excursions more enjoyable when not thinking about whether the clothes on your back will function, so focus can be to putting birds in your bird vest.
HUNT DOVES ALL DAY
There had been no birds for at least an hour. The last dove that flew by was met with a string of pellets. The dove lay next to five others on an old heavy, weathered canvas bag that saw double-duty in the duck blind. I looked up at my father, and he was gazing into the blue sky. He must’ve sensed me staring at him, because he turned to me with a smile and said in Spanish, “Let’s stay the whole day out here.” I nodded in agreement and gathered up two frijoles negros sandwiches for us to eat. We sat and talked and continued watching for doves that never came. I was happy to spend all day with my father and not see a thing.
Opening Day of Dove Season – Are Our Dogs Ready to Go???
It’s that time of year, the excitement has been building and dove season is just around the corner! We have worked our dove fields, gotten our camo out, and polished up our guns. We can hardly wait for opening morning, to feel the rush of birds coming in and the blasts of our shotguns going off!
A Guide to Exploring Shotguns, Chokes and Shot Size for Hunting the Brown Rockets of the Marsh...
As I reloaded my 12 gauge over-and-under, yet again for the fourth, fifth, and even sixth time after I had whiffed on the acrobatic brown rockets of the marsh…the snipe, I had about given up on connecting on the fragile little fliers. The Ruger Red Label’s barrels were hot to the touch due to the number of shells being shot out of them. Trouncing through the wetlands, the occasional backsplash would create a “tsss” sound on the hot metal tubes. The break-open action on the double-barreled shotgun was surely seeing plenty of opening and closing.
