Jon's Never Ending Odyssey: 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.