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Going for a Walk

Going for a Walk

Going for a Walk

Anyway that is what I told the family. Saturday was one of those days a Utah Pheasant Hunter dreams of…. snow and a light breeze on opening day. Snow consolidates the birds, helps you read sign, helps the dogs noses, and keeps the not so serious bird hunter home.

 I was posed to take advantage of the ideal situation with a hard to get private land hunting unit permit and then the phone rang………..It was one of my little fishing buddys and no he wasn’t asking to go fishing or pheasant hunting with Grandpa. He was turning eight and well all sorts of things were scheduled to happen on his day. I tried every which way to schedule a hunt around the activities. The last thing I needed in my too fast world was another race.

 So I resorted to a short drive to see what the hunting activity was around my neck of the woods. As usual the orange paint fairy showed up the night before and proceeded to post everything including property I know they don’t have permission to hunt on because I’m the only one with written permission. There were a dozen rigs in a square mile and that is just too many folks for me to want to be involved in.

 My observations on all game birds this year is that they are down in numbers and I contribute that to the wet spring that didn’t help the nesting at all. I’ve seem a few real young pheasants and that tells me they nested a second time after loosing the first nests to the weather. All our river bottom coverage was flooded late into the nesting season.

 Sunday A.M. broke with another light skiff of snow. I ran a couple errands with my wife and was pretty much getting fit to be tied. “I’ve got to go for a walk”, I mumbled to her when we returned home. It has been hard to stay on the walk scene with my schedule.

 I don’t typically hunt on Sunday for numerous reasons but decided the dogs need a walk as well, and hey the bird vest is good to carry water in, and well….I could do some arm curls if I packed the new shotgun cause it is kind of heavy.  (I’m sticking to it)

I have to admit that when the big rooster broke cover that 40 years of upland game hunting is just too hard to control because it has become second nature. Guess I should have left the shells home!

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