Part two of the story
Remember, this is true.So I thought nothing could top the 150 yard sprint that occured on opening day. I should know that whatever I think, can be out done.
There were seven of us. We started at daybreak in this little patch of CRP. On opening day, we were only allowed to hunt half of it. On Sunday, we were allowed to walk the whole thing. It was only about 200 yards wide by a mile long.
The theory we employ in big patches is to walk the edges. By walking the edges the group will push birds out from the middle into the lanes of fire. In this theory, the 2nd and 3rd corners are supposed to be where all the action is.
Anyways, we started and shot one rooster right away. We continued on and shot a couple more through the second corner. We approached the third corner with Tony on the outside edge, Butch, me, Gerb, Gyles, Jar, and Matt. We got to the third corner and had just barely started swinging when a rooster flushed and Tony knocked it down. Again another rooster flushed, and once again Tony knocked it down.
Except he didn't kill it.
The pheasant landed in the green wheat field next to the patch we were hunting. Just like the day before, it rolled and popped to its feet. From there on, he ran like he had stolen something. Tony took off after him and I joined chase. Tony tried to shoot it again but never got within enough range to successfully injure it to slow it down. I tried to hit it a couple of times but missed. It's really hard to shoot on the dead run.
Running perpendicular to the edge of our patch were telephone wires. Why? I'm not sure as there wasn't a homestead on the entire section. Around the base of each pole was a clump of grass. I saw the rooster go in the first patch of grass. Tony was about 40 yards ahead of me. He saw this too so he veered off towards the grass. As he got to the grass, I saw this bird come out of the other end of the grass like the Roadrunner. I think I even heard it "Meep Meep."
Tony didnt' see what I saw, but he snapped too when I started firing. A loud click told me that my gun was empty. Of course I'm still on the run at this point. Again the bird goes into the patch of grass, and runs out the other side. By now my only thought was to try to tackle the rooster. The rooster had a lead of about 65 yards on us and we were tiring. About 200 yards ahead there was a hedge row that ran off to the east. I knew that if the bird got in the trees, we wouldn't see it ever again. For a third straight time the bird goes by a telephone pole and we lose sight of it. Once more it comes out the other side. He's not running as fast, but then again neither are we. Remember, I've never claimed to be really fleet of foot. Somehow i managed to get within range now and perhaps even more amazing is that I managed to load my gun. Finally I pull up and blast away. The bird rolls, and starts to drag itself off. My thoughts are of "Holy shit, what is this bird made of?" It was like a really bad cartoon.
In what can only be described as move as graceful brutality, I managed to kind of flop on top of the rooster before it could get away. Tony and I started laughing between sucking oxygen in great gasping breaths. We both turned around to find out that we had run OVER 400 yards to catch this one determined bird. When we got back to the rest of the group, Jar was doubled over howling with laughter. Gerb looked at me and said "That was probably one of the uglilest things I've ever seen."
I couldn't respond because I was still sucking air.
In two days, I had ran over 550 yards after wounded pheasants. Unbelievable.
posted by Rusty @ 10:00 PM
Comments: 2
