Rachel's Cookies

I know this post might be short and sweet, but with all of the Christmas cookies we did this year, Rachel's cut out cookies were a work of art. She has tweaked her recipes and methods over the years, and her cookies improve tenfold every year.

If the vet business goes belly-up, we will make a killing with these!



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Another Limit of Late Roosters

As the holidays were just beginning, I took a Sunday afternoon to drop off Christmas cookies to one of the landowners that let me hunt his property this season. I was going to hop around public property until I found a bird, but the landowner said I was more than welcome to try my luck at again out at the property I limited earlier.
Once I was done catching up, I hauled over to spot again, as I knew I would at least see birds at this place.
It was colder and windy, and it took both the dog and I a little bit to get our legs under us. I could tell we were pushing birds ahead again this time, but they were sticking tight with the snow cover in the cattails. Mocha flushed one hen right in front of me and I caught some birds flushing far out ahead of us. Fortunately for us, they would get up, and drop right back down again. When we got to the end I just let the pup work the area.
Birds were flushing all around me and it was only a matter of time before one of them was a rooster.
The first one flushed to right and I dropped him on the edge of the slough in the deep snow. Before I could even bring my gun down  another flushed far to my left. This was a poke but I again dropped him in the open winter wheat field.
After those two, I just stood in my spot and let the pup work around for awhile. I wanted to make sure there were no more roosters in that spot to complete a quick limit.
I picked up my buried rooster, and worked over to the one in the open field. Mocha flushed two more hens in the span of a few yards. We took a quick pic with my first double.

The next bird we had to earn...
There were birds flushing everywhere.
What I figured out was, every time we came to a corner the birds would hold until I was in range. The first corner got me two birds, the next corner I biffed on two birds.
We continued through the deep weeds just like last time but the birds were not cooperating. There was pheasant and deer sign everywhere so we knew they were there. We made our way back out into the cattails and there again were birds flushing wild. We pushed through to the next corner, halfway through, unloading on yet another without a scratch.
When we got the the end this time there were no birds.
We turned to work our way back and Mocha found one close.
I unload my gun again. I drop a leg the first shot, scrape the back on the second, and clip a wing on my final shot, bringing him back down to the prairie. I knew this was going to be a fun one to find...
Mocha and I began our grid and we were coming up with little. There was enough snow that we could find a fresh track if we ran into it, we were just struggling to find that.
Finally I found a blood trail. We trailed a pheasant like blood trailing a deer: one step at a time.
I caught sight of the bird a split second before Mocha did and she barrel rolled it once she was on it.

This is likely the last hunt of the 2015 season for me and it was a fantastic finish to an unbelievable hunting season. I would change nothing, and despite my frustrations with deer in this country, it really made me appreciate years past as well as what South Dakota has to offer as an alternative. Now we have cold, we have: ICE.



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Quick Pre-holiday Visit

A few weekends ago Ma and Pa came up to the wonderland of Clark for a quick blast of a visit. As we have settled in, the rest of our stuff, as well as what seems like endless extras, start finding their way back to our place. Dad was kind enough to bring such a load of stuff and I appreciate any help we can and have gotten with yet another move.

Before their arrival, Rachel and I spent the better part of Saturday antiquing in the area. Rachel is looking specifically for a hutch for our ever expanding kitchen. She has always wanted one but we have never lived in a place with enough space to accommodate one. Even in NE South Dakota, we could not find one that was not either in very poor condition, or vastly overpriced. We will continue our quest but we struck out on this run.

Saturday evening, we enjoyed a wonderful meal prepared by my wife and enjoyed the company and conversation.

 Sunday morning, Dad and I were given the green light to chase a late season rooster. I only have a limited number of places to hunt and I figured we would just walk what was on the easier side. We wanted more to just get out and walk rather than clean a bunch of birds.

We walked the length of a private shelterbelt I have permission to walk, but there was not even a track of a pheasant in it. The field next to it was a second flush of wheat from earlier in the year and was borderline thick enough to hold a bird or two. With standing corn two fields over, I figured we had a slight chance. We walked most of the field again, without a sign of a bird. ¾ of the way through I finally cut some tracks. I watched as the pup finally caught scent of the bird and she started working slowly through the sporadic wheat.

After walking 50 or so yards I see a head pop up 10 yards in front of me.

Rooster.

He ducked back into the grass as I was motioning to Dad that the bird was right in front of us. Mocha could not keep tabs on it and I didn’t want the bird to outsmart us. I worked ahead and then I hear Dad start yelling. It was now right in front of him but the thing would just not get up out of the grass. I finally got Mocha turned in the right direction, and the bird finally broke.

My first shot was a complete biff, but my follow-up and Dad’s one shot dropped him in the snow wheat. He was not a giant bird, but we were not skunked!

We finished up this field without another sighting. We still had some time so I took Dad to one of the publics I have been hunting. This had some thicker cattail marsh stuff and I figured maybe there would be a straggler bird left. I was wrong, as usual.

We walked most of the thicker stuff but the open area in the middle had more nests than I had seen anywhere else, yet we had walked a fair chunk of this place, and had yet to see a bird. On one stretch I watched Dad pause, bend over, and pick up a dropped glove or something. It was perfect movie quality double-take as Dad brushed the mud off a substantial shed antler.

We continued our loop without a bird, but at the turn Mocha got on one and I just chased her down to the end of the property. She flushed two hens, but no roosters.

We finished our loop, again without seeing another bird, and headed back home for a few pics and to call it a weekend.

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SD Limit

Rachel and I were still settling into our new place, and yet I still found the ability to remain restless. We were in the midst of our cookie baking binge, and I was granted a few hours to stomp for a rooster. I asked a landowner about walking one of his properties but I had not gotten a response so I headed out to the public section I have walked many times already.

I figured with the recent snow, the traffic would have been limited on this property but the snow only painted a clearer picture; gridded. I just let Mocha do her thing and I just follow suit. When I got to the far side of the property my phone buzzed with the landowner’s response. 

BINGO.

We bee-lined it back to the car as we were short on day light and I didn’t want to blow this golden opportunity. I stopped at home to change out shoes, as my boots had rubbed whatever skin I had off of my ankle. By the time I got to the spot I had a little over an hour and a half to find a bird. I just wanted to see one. We weren’t 50 yards from the car and there were tracks everywhere. Mocha knew what was up immediately and went straight to work. I watched as birds started popping out of the thick grass into the open field edge. I just started running as I knew they would get out ahead of us and flush wild. I unloaded on the first rooster without ruffling a feather. We worked down a little further and another giant rooster flushed. I dropped him on the second shot but I didn’t paste him. We looked for twenty minutes without finding him and I knew the clock was ticking. We moved on and I took a deep breath and told myself they were just birds, wait until they are closer.

The next rooster Mocha was working was a big, fat, old rooster. It had out-smarted her and doubled back towards me. What it didn’t know was how close I was before it caught me. 15 feet in front of me laboriously flushed in front of me. I took my time and dropped him on top of Mocha with a single shot. I thought I smoked him, and easily could have but all I hear is a yelping, growling dog with a rooster in her mouth. This was an older bird and with its last kicks it was attempting to mangle my pup’s muzzle. With every kick, she would yelp through a mouthful of feathers and then bite down a little harder. I finally had to peel the bird from her mouth and stuff it in my bag. Some razor spurs on that bird had done a number on the pup, but she was pretty much un-fazed. 

We continued to the other side of the slough and only flushed a couple of hens in the process. We worked a couple of birds to the end of the property line before a rooster flushed out ahead of us. I hit him with the first, and finished him with the second so there was no running bird. When Mocha crossed the fence back to me we sat down for a water break. As Mocha dropped down to get water, a hen flushed less than 5 feet from us. Mocha proceeds to almost flip backwards, and I flat out fell over. It was something from a Red Green Show skit, but we composed ourselves and continued our quest for a South Dakota limit. 

The next chunk we hunted was beyond pounded with dee and pheasant sign. It was 12’ fallow multi-stemmed sunflower. With 2-3” diameter stems, it was a mini-forest. There were birds flushing in all directions and I can barely see 30 yards in front of me. I just kept watching the dog as she generally leads me to birds. I lost sight of her and was working my way in her direction when I caught the wagging tail. 

She had somehow pinned one down and didn’t know what to do next. I started bulling my way closer in hopes I could help her. There was no way I was going to be able to kill one in this stuff unless it was close. I got to about 30 yards from her when she let it go. It cackled as it flushed and I shot a hail-mary through the fallowed forest. A stem exploded in front of me and miraculously the bird dropped from the sky like a lead balloon. I bulled my way through the tall stems to find Mocha lying in the snow with the bird under her chin. She knew she had done well, and you could see the accomplishment in her eyes. It’s just weird to see it, but you know it when you do; they just know when they have done well.

We had a quick water break, stuffed our last bird into my pack bag, and headed back to the car with plenty of daylight to spare. We would end up flushing somewhere in the realm of 75-100 birds in the home stretch of the thick stuff before crossing back to the other side of the slough.

Mocha went right back to work.

Just on the other side she pointed and flushed another rooster that would have been cheating he was so close and slow. She worked two hens, about where we shot the first rooster and again, flushed them only when I was right behind her. The final bird was another big, smart rooster that had played the game before. 

Dad had talked about how years ago Jill had played cat-and-mouse with some birds and outsmarted them in their own game. 

I watched as Mocha crept slowly along the edge of the field before bolting, low to the ground and popping back into the deep grass. She was 70 yards out in front of me and I just let her do her thing to see how she would react. She then worked directly back to me, flushing the bird 20 yards out in front of me in a picture perfect arch, long tail feathers waving with every wing beat.

What a magnificent way to end a late season pheasant hunt!

We finished our walk and as usual, had the Mrs. take a few photos back at the ranch (still missing my camera…)

I have heard many people say that yes, South Dakota is loaded with pheasants and you shouldn’t have trouble at all filling a limit in an outing. I believe that has some truth to it, but luck plays a vital role. I only had permission to hunt this private property for pheasants this particular afternoon and I knew I had to capitalize on the opportunity, or it would slip between my fingers; public land is pounded around here. My giant rooster went a hair over 4 pounds, which could put a Canadian mallard to shame, and had 23” tail feathers. 

South Dakota limits are possible, but I am putting my money on Mocha. Without her, it would have been hopeless. 

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An Iowa Thanksgiving

Being the frond end of our holiday season, Rachel and I made our way south, to the Freeseman Farm. We are road warriors at least, and were about to get in a hair before midnight the day before Thanksgiving. As with most trips home, we enjoyed each other’s company, football, and great food.

 

It was great to see Rachel in such a great mood and quite frankly, she kind of just left me to my own accord. She was so pre-occupied with being home that she was in another realm, and that was fine by me. 

 The day after Thanksgiving Rachel bailed on me to go shopping with Megan. This left me to hang out with the boys and to get some projects done. We had the boys for the morning, so they were but an extension of whatever we were working on. We helped/watched Austin change the oil on his car and wash it. When Rachel and Megan returned from their outing, Rachel and I headed to Megan and Ben's place for the evening. It was wonderful to see them again, and hang out. I got some much needed baby time, although Eli is become a chunk! We enjoyed great conversation, and a meal prepared by the ladies. This is yet another reason we miss home.

On Saturday, the ladies left for a craft show in Cedar Rapids, leaving the dudes at home. I spent the morning wrestling, watching movies, and just hanging out with Ryker and Daxton. We waited for later in the afternoon before we would try our luck at Colemans again for squirrels. Last year, Michael and I took Ryker out there to find a squirrel, but we really didn’t know what we were doing, and it was cold enough he only lasted a little over an hour out there. We then went back and did some real population management.

This year we had Michael, Ryker, Daxton, and Jerry along. We just took a leisurely walk through the timber this year with no real expectations of seeing any squirrels. We got to show the boys and Jerry deer, deer tracks, and some of the timber work I have done back there. At the end of the first section, we found a squirrel nest, and Michael blasted away. We ended up with a squirrel and were not skunked on the day! 

We continued all of the way back to Rachel’s Stand and found another 2 squirrels in that tree. At that point Daxton decided he was done for the day, and he and Jerry headed back. Ryker however, was not done and he wanted to keep going. He really had to convince Michael and I to forge on…

We took a few pictures of the TSI I have done back there and what a vast improvement. This last year’s progress is unbelievable. 

On the final stretch we did find one more squirrel to cap off our afternoon, and we could have had a few more had we not ran out of ammunition.

We pulled one last loop and headed back home with a handful of squirrels. I think we are in the process of creating another monster. Ryker was with us every step of the way and I think it is only going to get crazier as time goes on.

That is the reason I am doing the work I have been doing back there, so that someday, the boys can come out here and enjoy the sanctuary as much as I have. 

This was a wonderful trip and we were not exactly happy to call it a trip and head back home. We had a U-Haul full and we were headed back to Clark to move into our new apartment. We seem to only operate under one speed: 

GO

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