After our first bird was down, our new mission was to get more quality shots at these birds before the season ended. Zeus and I decided we better kick off the New Year right and attempt to bring home some pheasants on the last day of the season (January 1^st).  We packed up the truck with our gear after church and headed out.  I decided I would try a change of pace this last day, and try to get permission on some private land next to the Waterfowl Production Area I had been hunting.  I watched numerous birds fly into several sloughs that were on this parcel.  After tracking the owner down (via creeping the web), I gained permission to venture out on this haven.

I walked out onto the edge of the cornfield with Zeus and we began our trek into the cattails.  Zeus was acting like a seasoned guide dog now, running up in front of me into the wind fighting his way through the mangled mess.  20 yards into our walk we kick up our first bird.  A gorgeous rooster not more than 10 yards away, jumps into the sky and immediately falls back to the earth. The knock down power of 1500 fps steel had little mercy, as it sent shot ripping through its body.  Zeus watched the bird fall and handled the dying bird like a veteran with a beautiful retrieve.  “This is going to be a quick day” I thought to myself as we had our first bird in hand within 10 minutes of leaving the truck.  We continued pushing through the cluttered cattails, as this area was crawling with birds not more than a few days previous.  This proved to be a waste as not another bird emerged from this section.

We moved on to a fresh slough that also looked promising but was just a tease, as no birds came from this acreage either. As we started walking to the furthest slough, birds started rising from it like locust heading in every direction.  I watched a beautiful long tailed rooster head into the slough Zeus and I had just walked.  I mentally marked this bird to return to later.  We continued chasing the other birds into the WPA until we decided it was no longer worth it.  These birds were toying with us and they were winning.

Our next move was to go after the single rooster I had mentally marked from earlier.  No other bird had gone in that direction, and no bird had gotten up from that spot.  Zeus and I slowly reentered the same area we had just gone through not more than an hour or so before.  Slowly working through the cattails, I would often pause as this used to get nervous grouse to take flight in the North Woods of Aitkin. Sure enough it works for pheasants too.  As Zeus labored to my left, I heard the eruption of wings hitting cattails coming from his direction.  I swung over my Franchi and put the bead on the long tailed rooster and bang! Down goes our second bird of the day.  Another perfect retrieve from Zeus gave me all the more confidence that the light bulb had turned on for him, and that he had grasped his inherit purpose in life.  He had turned from a puppy to a bird-dog, and I was so ecstatic to be in that moment with him.

With time no longer on our side, I decided to make a big move and try an area I had not scouted.  We jumped in the truck, and made it there with an hour or so of shooting left for our season.  We hustled towards the cattails and started working the area. As I was walking towards the edge of the cattails I felt the dreaded plummet of my foot into ice cold water.  This time it was not just up to my knee.  After emerging out of the water, I was wet from the waist down, and unable to put weight on my other leg as I twisted my knee in an unfavorable direction.  This lasted a few minutes until I started to limp along. We pressed on and scant sign was found until the end of the push when 3 hens busted out of their nooks.  With shooting time fading we jumped back on the dirt road heading to the truck.  Figuring we were going home with 2 pheasants I was pleased, but in the back of my mind was really hoping we could wrap the season up with a limit.  That was when I saw it.  Like a beacon of light shining towards us.  A WPA sign across the road with a gorgeous slough in the middle, agriculture fields surrounding it.  Zeus and I hustled up and jumped into the cattails.

We immediately started seeing tracks all over the place.  Not more than 20 yards in the slough, the first hen jumped up 15 yards in front.  Two more steps another hen, before I could take another step, four more hens blew up in front of us all within 20 yards.  I looked at Zeus and he looked at me, both of us were in amazement.  This was the honey hole we had been looking for.  This was the place we were going to find the last rooster of the season.  We continued pushing on and hen after hen kept rising in front of us.  We hooked back around to head back into the slough and that’s when the prodigal rooster we had been waiting for got up in front of us.  Not wasting any time to allow the bird to get further away from us I fired.  The bird took a nose dive into the cattails, but appeared that it could still be alive when it hit the ground.  I started hustling towards the area it went down and continued calling for Zeus to find it.  As I continued forward, Zeus headed off to my right and behind me.  He disappeared into the cattails and I heard wings flapping.  A black head popped back up with a gorgeous rooster protruding from his mouth.  I yelled “Good boy!” as he proudly jogged back to my side and released the bird into my hand.  It was fitting that Zeus would surprise me further and find a blind retrieve to end the season on.

We were able to put a limit in the vest on the last day of the season. Something I thought may not be possible after our first day of hunting.  The idea of pheasant hunters being rich, stogie smoking, scotch drinking, uppity ups may be true in some cases, but not the case in real life- normal hunting.  I now have a new found respect and love for pheasants and the art of hunting these birds.

 

When I started researching the area my wife and I were moving to in rural mid-western Minnesota, I kept hearing that I was moving to an area that was good pheasant country. This slightly frightened me, as I know pheasants and how to hunt them about as well as I know how the female brain works. Throughout my childhood and young adult life I conjured up this idea that pheasant hunters are rich millionaires who smoke large stogies and drink scotch in their “log cabins” after a “long days hunt”. Granted this only took place after their hired out guides and dogs found the birds for them out on the thousands of acres of prime managed land they paid to hunt. This is something I am not, and refused to even think about pheasant hunting. I continued doing what I know and duck hunted and deer hunted until December.

After Christmas I started getting the itch to hunt some upland birds and I really wanted to get my 9 1/2 month old pup Zeus out into the field to get some exposure to live birds. Although Zeus has been along on some grouse hunts, he was still a novice with authentic bird-hunting.  I also needed to get some exercise after the Christmas feasts in which I had recently partook. Having my old grouse hunting stomping grounds more than 2 1/2 hours away, I only had one other bird to hunt.  Knowing absolutely nothing about these seemingly mystical birds that people had been raving about, I bought a pheasant stamp and a box of Federal Steel Waterfowl 4 shot (I was too cheap to purchase the 20 dollar pheasant loads). I loaded up the old grouse vest and gear into the truck along with the mildly lethargic Zeus and headed to an area where I had observed two pheasants fly into a waterfowl production area. I figured I might as well work with what I’ve got in my locale and try something new.

Only having a few hours to hunt the first day I decided to keep an open mind and start working cattails, as this was what I was told by a good friend Ryan Wahlund.  Ryan is a very knowledgeable well rounded hunter but is a specialist when it comes to pheasants and loves to hunt these birds.  I got a quick rundown on their behavior during late season and I was ready. With a nice crust on the snow, I was lucky enough to break through on every step I took, which made for some fun tramping.  I started heading to the area I saw the birds fly to a few days prior, and took my first step onto the slough that the cattails surrounded.  My foot immediately plummeted into the icy water below up to the knee.  “This is so much fun”, I thought to myself as Zeus stared at me like I was an idiot for bringing him out into this snowy wasteland.  I decided I would skirt the outside of the cattails so I would not fall through again as I tend to learn quickly.  I trekked 20 feet further, and that is when I heard the first bird flush.  It was behind some heavy brush that was between me and the cattails where I should have been, and then all hell broke loose.  Bird after bird got up out of the same area and I kept looking for that glint of color through the brush but it was just too thick.

When I arrived at the next section of WPA, pheasants started flying more than 200 yards away. This is what Ryan warned me about with late season pheasants.  Although easier to find with less cover, they have been bombarded for months and will fly at the sound of a mouse-fart.  Not forgetting about the cold plummet my foot took not more than an hour ago, I slowly crept out onto a new slough, and checked ice thickness the whole way around.  Continuing to creep forward, something blew up not more than three feet in front of me.  Two hen pheasants that were nestled in the cattails (before I disturbed them) ascended towards the skies.  Zeus looked at me, then back to the birds as I pulled up and identified my target. I could almost hear him ask me why I wasn’t shooting.  I told him they were hens and we headed to a new area to explore before dark.  This new section looked favorable, as pheasant tracks coursed all along a row of Cedars next to the road and on the other side were two large sloughs with cattails all around.  This would be my spot to start on tomorrow.

After waking up the next morning, I quickly realized that pheasant hunting may be a little more exhausting than I imagined, as my calves ached from the constant breaking through the crust of the snow.  With coffee in hand and a renewed energy, Zeus and I headed to our hopeful honey hole.  Zeus seemed to be more ambitious today, and was whimpering to get going as I loaded my Franchi Semi Auto.  After only taking a few steps into the crusty prairie I began to see birds lifting from the cattails, flying every direction just like the day before.   I picked out where most of the birds were landing and began traversing downwind of their terminus.  As Zeus and I started getting closer to the area they had landed in a beautiful sound took over, the sound of nothing. No birds were flying out of my range. As we continued our assault on the slough a hen emerged from the cattails around 20 yards out. I took another step through the cattails, and that’s when I saw what we had been after the past two days. Not more than 15 yards out a gorgeous rooster arose from the undergrowth into my sight.  I rose up on the cock and fired. I watched the bird fold and skip across the ice. I yelled with excitement “dead bird!” and called for Zeus to find it.  Zeus found the shell wad and continued to follow the scent of the bird and that’s when I was most proud of him.  Zeus hurdled into the cattails and popped back out with a gorgeous rooster in his mouth. He carried the bird to me and released to my hand.  Our first bird was down and in the bag.

I sat and admired the bird. Amazed at the colors, I couldn’t stop staring at it.  “So this is what all the fuss is about”, I thought to myself as Zeus stared at the bird with equal passion wanting so badly to take it from me. Luckily, he managed to contain his temperament.  I gave him a thorough praise and was able to get a few pictures with him and the rooster. This moment will forever live in my memory as our first rooster together and the start of a new passion.  There is no better feeling then seeing your pup work with you to find the game you’re after and then have a successful retrieve.