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.
Stay Tuned
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