Pheasant Hunting

Late Season Hunts

One man’s snowstorm is another man’s hunting
trip. At least it can be when pheasant hunting
in the fields of the Midwest. While most hunters
are curing the chilblains with a toddy and a roaring
fire, others are out harvesting late-season birds.
So don’t let cold weather and snow deter you from
what are often the best hunts of the year.

“How,” I used to ask, “can anybody miss anything as big, slow, and garish as a cock pheasant?”

Understand, if you will, that where I grew up, bird hunting meant pairs of everything: a double gun, a couple of setters, and a brace of Pats. “Pats” being, of course, the sainted Ruffed Grouse.

That was before I spent ten years pheasant hunting in the flatlands of the Midwest, where a brace of Pats became a couple of cock birds, and I learned at least two dozen ways of missing those big, slow, garish cock pheasants. But I also learned, more or less (mostly less), how to hunt the Chinese import. And I learned to enjoy hunting him most when the weather turns cold and snow blankets the ground.

Sure, sure, I know. Of all the pheasants harvested each year, about half are taken on the first day of the pheasant hunting season. By the third or fourth day all the dumb ones have been shot. And that’s that for about 70% of the birds shot that year.

Opening day sees the cover and food fields crisscrossed by a veritable army of hunters. As the days progress, the number of hunters falls off. And the first killer frost often sees the end of this rag-tag army of fair weather gunners.

But the birds are there. You just have to look a little harder. And in different places.

Rule Number One when pheasant hunting: Always believe the dog. He knows his business a lot better than you know yours and will seek out the birds where they are, rather than where you think they should be. For those times the dog is wrong, follow Rule Number Two, which is: see Rule Number One!

Obeying Rule Number One, the dog will lead you away from the stubble fields and into heavy cover. When the cold winds blow and the snow spits, pheasant look for some heavy stuff to break the force of the weather. They don’t care for cold feet any more than you do, and head for the pheasant equivalent of a living-room hearth.

This is a mixed blessing. On one hand, you don’t have to face those endless rows of wheat stubble or corn stalk when pheasant hunting. But on the other hand, you’ll be slogging through heavy brush and tall weeds, sometimes snow-covered, almost always wet or frost coated. That can get old real fast if all you’re used to is ambling down the furrows.

Trade in your hunting pants for a pair of hip boots, and the going will get a little easier. Wet is only one of the things you’re protected from. Hippers also make about the best brush busters going, turning burrs, briars, and most any other kind of “gotcha” bush that grows.

You’ll also find them a blessing when you have to wade the moat to invade the castle. You’ve seen what I mean. A low spot in the farm field that collects water and is always too wet to plow. So the farmer plants around it.

More times than not there’s an island of dry ground in the middle of this puddle, grown up to weds and brush. Then the farmer plows his fields, and the castle and moat are exposed. Exposed to the eye, that is. Better than 99% of the hunters I’ve met do not bother pheasant hunting those tiny patches. “Hell, slog all the way over there on the wild chance there’s a bird? No way!”

That’s a great attitude---for the birds. Remember, the dumb ones have been shot off by now, and the smart ones have watched you and every other hunter bypass that dry patch with the watery protection. You’re now allowed one guess as to where the smart ones have gone.

It never ceases to surprise me how little cover a pheasant or six really needs. I had plans of setting up a photo blind for deer one time. Out in the middle of a cornfield stood a patch such as we’re discussing. It couldn’t have measured more than 25 feet on a side, including the remains of a blown-down poplar. A deer trail passed near that tree, and I figured to set up there and wait for him.

I go no more than three steps into that patch of weed when the world exploded. Three birds got up at once. A few seconds later, up came another. And two more shortly afterwards. Not only had I no gun, I was so startled I didn’t even press the shutter.

You also can expect pheasants to run wide and flush wild at this time of year. That’s where a really good dog comes into its own. A neighbor of mine had one that could short stop moving birds. She’d race downwind of us, turn suddenly, and nail a bird solid while waiting for us to catch up. The dog used us as drivers to send the birds moving her way.

You can’t train a pointing dog to do that. They either pick it up on their own, or you don’t have the benefit of that skill. For the same reason, most field-trial dogs are next to worthless in cold weather cover when pheasant hunting. Too often I’ve watched such dogs get frustrated when they pin a bird on point, only to have it move out from under---then flush thirty yards away.

A dog who won’t follow a moving bird doesn’t put you into shooting late in the year. But again, it’s a hard thing to train. And field trialers are brought up specifically not to do it.

Much as I love pointing dogs, flushing dogs actually do a better overall job under those conditions.