Once Again North Dakota

I'm not quite sure why North Dakota pheasant hunting has such a grip on my soul.

 

It’s not the two day drive through stunning country susceptible to violent changes in weather at the drop of a hat.  It couldn’t be the amazing pheasant hunting at the Jack O’Diamond’s Hunter’s Hideout or the massive horns on huge whitetail deer standing guard on the bluffs overlooking Cedar Creek. 

I know it’s not the jack rabbits as big as my dog or the sneaking coons that will invade your stash cooler when the night is cold and silent.

It's the morning light.  Orion in the south before daylight and a cock rooster’s macho belch louder than a 747 streaking across a crisp blue sky at 30K+ feet.  One thing for sure - it all sounds better than a siren racing to the shooting at 2 a.m. city time.

Once again it’s North Dakota.   This time with a different crew but a game bunch none the less.

(Look, I know it’s not L & C’s great trek, but for one of us it was the beginning.  For another, it might be the end. Loved ones are that way...more important than history.)

On board was the Minnesota outlaw accompanied by a new dog (a puppy probably too young for such an adventure but she did show signs of brilliance when not obeying the master.  Minnesota also brought two other generations of himself. 

A son, and grandson - who, unfortunately had broken a leg on a dumb dirt bike deal a few months earlier but was still on crutches.  At 12 yrs old, the young man was a gamer.  No whimpers or tantrums or growls.  Shot his first pheasant and grinned.  Low key and a gentleman.

His dad -son of the main Minnesota outlaw - also got some shooting and marched the tune quite well.

Also on board was the infamous TBird, a hold over from last year and the Major Domo of the crowd.  Up too early and ready to go, he was the easy spirit of the hunt.  And quick with the Breakfast Cylinder.

New this year, and hopefully again next year, was the SW Washington outlaw of nefarious character Mr. Harding.  Although not pictured in the group shot (he left early), he was certainly one of the bunch.  The ravages of Agent Orange have taken it’s toll on the old goat, but he remains in the moment. 

And a dog guy.

And then there are the dogs. 

Hunting NDak is all about the dogs.  I know I wouldn’t make the drive without the dog.  Seeing them dodge and quarter across the golden CRP and through the coolies and over the rises is a joy to behold.

Joe Dog was solid as rock, even swimming the creek to retrieve a rooster on the other side.  Minnie Gun, Mr. Hardings’ yellow lab went nuts when we first arrived.  She hadn’t been around that much pheasant scent in her life.  She soon settled down to her nose on the ground and yellow tail twisting through the brush.  Young Ginger the Vizla didn’t quite know what was going on, but at 6 mo. how could she.

Most improved dog of the hunt was TBird’s Tripp.  Solid points and retrieves.

It’s all about good dogs and dumb owners.

After four days, the party was over.  We hadn’t taken as many birds as last year, but the experience was equal. 

Minnesota’s went East, TBird and Harding went West and I took off North to Glasgow.

So there you have it.  Stay tuned.