The weekend endeth
The greatest weekend in Kansas is over.As predicted, I was a basketcase on Friday. I could barely contain myself. However, I did manage to actually retire for the evening at about midnight and somwhow I was able to get around four hours of sleep. My alarm popped on at 4:15. At 4:15:03, my feet hit the floor. My next order of business was to turn the coffee pot on. After all, every hunter needs coffee in the morning.
Once the coffee was brewing, I finished dressing. It felt good to put on my shooting shirt and my hunting jeans. It had only been about 9 months since I had worn them. Dad milled around for a little but eventually got all his stuff together, even though it had been laid out. We put some Cokes in a small cooler to take, while also filling a water jug. By this time, I was really jacked up to go. I'm worse than a child at Christmas when it comes to this. Donny came and picked us up and away we went.
We got to Joe's about 5:30. There were already some guys in the courtyard area, some were sipping on coffee in the brisk air, others were making adjustments to guns, while even a few stayed in the warm confines of the truck. I introduced myself to some people that I hadn't met before. After a short wait, Danny showed up with the Killer Van and the boxes that hold the birds. I didn't really know what to expect, but I had visions of a wooden box with air holes. Actually, the boxes were made out of wire mesh with doors that could be slid open by pulley. Danny also passed out some miner's headlamps, while others handed out goggles.
Inside the flight pen, there were probably 100 birds in the catch pen. Danny and three others went inside the catch pen to catch the birds. Joe stood outside and took the birds handed from the guys inside. Two others cut blinders off and banded them with orange wire ties around one leg. I was busy opening the door, while dad was counting birds. We ended up with 74 roosters.
I bet the whole process took about 30 minutes. The sky was just beginning to lighten in the east when we finished up. Danny, Dennis, Duck and I loaded up a box of 20 birds into the back of the Killer Van, then deposited the box back at Danny's. We drove back to Joe's which is only about two miles from Danny's. By now I was chomping at the bit to get going. I think at that point, my leg could have been severed, but I would have still been walking that first field. After what seemed like an eternity, we loaded up to get going. A couple of people, including my father stayed behind to block.
We drove the half mile and worked the patch from the south to the north, against the wind. For some reason I ended up on the east end of the patch, between Rick and Dennis. The party started moving slowly and the hunt was on.
We must not have been more than 30 yards into the patch when the first rooster broke about 65 yards in front of us. By the size, I guessed that it was an actual wild one. Soon, I had my first shot at a rooster, which I missed. However, my next shot hit the sucker, along with the other two guys that shot. I chalked it up as a team kill. I knocked my first rooster out of the sky when it flushed in front of me. The next rooster I shot, came at me. I shot and the bird's momentum almost carried it to my feet. I swear all I would have had to do was step up and catch it. The third bird I shot, I had to shoot it on the ground as it tried to run away.
Now during all this time, the line had somehow shifted and suddenly Rick and I had to cover about 75 yards between the two of us. That was no mean feat, considering that the CRP grass was bordering on being over my head. I know that the birds were running around us even though we were doing the best we could to cover the ground. The fourth rooster I shot was one that wouldn't fly. He kept looking at me while trying to slink away. Finally, one of the guys yelled to shoot it. So I did. I didn't shoot another one in Danny's or the second time around in Joe's.
The final numbers for Saturday were that our party of 18 shot 46 roosters. HOWEVER, only 31 were banded. that means there are 43 still out there. We ate half of the birds right then and they were wonderful. Russ was wondering why he didn't knock any down, but we came to find out that he was shooting 8's. I laughed incredibly hard when I found this out. I also told him "No, wonder. You're effectively just spitting on the bird."
We got home about 2:30. Around 3, Dad and I got a wild hair and we ran out to walk one more patch. We ended up shooting another rooster apiece.
Sunday brought 7 of us and more of a normal hunt. I shot 3 more to bring my total to 8 for the weekend. Not a bad weekend by personal standards.
posted by Rusty @ 10:55 PM
Comments: 4
