Justin and I rolled out on a pheasant chasing expedition at 9 this morning. We hit the first field at 10 bells and capped a wildly successful public-land hunt that we’ve grown to live for in the autumn and winter months at shortly after 11, when I put our sixth rooster in my gamebag. A fist bump and a few camera pictures later, we loaded up the dogs and plopped down in the truck for the drive home. But, on a day that was similar to so many others, something was different. Something just didn’t seem right. The joy of an exhilarating hunt had faded as realization set in that another adventure was over. And we don’t have a lot of adventures left together.
Laying on the couch at home, I couldn’t shake the feeling that the time I’d been dreading for the last couple years was fast approaching. Caleb missed the hunt because he was looking for a new place to live in some God-forsaken corner of Nebraska. Justin wimped out on a Nebraska hunt because he had to study for his Law School finals. For the first time in my life, I regretted killing a rooster. If I’d unloaded the gun, we’d still be hunting. Heaven knows it would have taken several hours for Justin and his pair of Brittanys to do the work Cash I had done to finish the limit.
It got me to thinking: If I’d rather hunt all day and finish one bird short than shoot a fast limit and be done by noon, then maybe the reason I love to hang out with these guys has nothing to do with chasing birds. I quickly regrouped from my momentary lapse of insanity and put that aside. There is NOTHING I’d rather do than hunt birds. But, that doesn’t mean I could do it alone and enjoy it nearly as much.
I’m not much of a reflector. I prefer to save that for the years when I can’t do anything better. But today I did a little soul searching on what’s made these last years the best ones of my life. There are a lot of answers, and I’d be in deep s#$t if I didn’t mention the fact that I got married and have a baby on the way, but as this is a site devoted to hunting and dogs, I’ll stick to the business at hand and give the reasons why I hunt:
First and foremost, it’s about that group of people that I spend time afield with. I’ve hunted for as long as it’s been legal for me to do so, but have never been so willing to drop all semblance of responsibility as I do around these two:
We’re a motley crew, and never afraid to trade punches on anything from gun preference to breed loyalties. But at the end of the day, we’d be hard-pressed to find a better group of hunting buddies.
Even if they are completely incapable of dressing appropriately for the field:
For anyone that’s had the opportunity, there are few things as rewarding as being a part of a “first hunt.” Over the last couple years, I’ve been a part of a number and will treasure each of them:
While the people that surround me when I’m afield are at the top of this list, my other best hunting buddies aren’t far behind:
While she’s not much to look at (evidenced by her heinous profile shown below) and sports a complete diva attitude, Lilly is a partner I’d take afield anyday.
Bella… What to say about Bella… I’m having a hard time coming up with a clever quip that’s not a complete lie. I guess I’ll have to admit that she’s actually pretty legit when chasing birds (as legitimate as a lab can be anyway).
And of course, Cash. If ever there existed a more perfect specimen of bird finding nature and gentlemenhood (yes, I’m aware that’s not really a word), I’m yet to see it.
Any hunter worth his metal can tell you a story or two about a mishap afield. We all do what we can to avoid the worst, but things happen. Some perils like snakes and skunks can be unavoidable. If we’re fortunate enough to avoid disaster, we can usually look back on these with a bit of a smile and a chuckle:
Of course it helps to have such a good group of friends to chip in when something like a skunk encounter does come up:
I often talk with my friends of the images that are burned into my memory. A dog on point, a rooster flushing, or a flock of geese with their wings set and landing gear down. What I sometimes forget to take in are the images that aren’t directly bird related. Over the last few years I’ve been lucky enough to have a few of these images captured on film, and they will always be a part of the reason I hunt:
Finally, there’s the birds. I’ve always been a fan of the birds. While I don’t need a limit of birds to feel like I’ve had a successful hunt, even the most die-hard hunter can grow frustrated by fruitless labor (especially true for the four-legged hunters I spend my time with). I know the hero shots are deemed “classless” by some, but for those that were there, they still tell a story and I have a lot of great memories summed up in a “tacky” photo of dead birds. Below are some of my favorites of this current season. While the casual viewer sees in them only a pile of feathers, for myself and my buddies, these are just the world's best way to relive an entire hunt in one glimpse:
Reading back through this, I’m sure I missed a lot of reasons why I live for hunting. I do enjoy a well cooked sharptail or other game and that probably fits in there somewhere. Ultimately though, I have come to appreciate most the time that I spend between pointed birds. It’s the crap I get for owning a shorthair, or the heckling I give for shooting a Red Label. It’s getting up early to set up a thousand snow goose decoys in the mud and then sit in a blind for 8 hours without firing a shot, just shooting the s@#t and telling stories. It’s cruising a random dirt road with a can of Skoal and my best friends.
When we all go our separate ways, I’ll still have a lot of reasons to hunt. I just don’t know that they’ll ever be as good. I’m sure I’ll get new hunting buddies down the road, probably a lot of them, but I think I’ll always look back on these as my glory years and try to explain to others why these years have been the reason I’ll always hunt. Hopefully the hunter’s down the road get the chance to find their own reasons:
