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Showing posts with the label pheasant

Up, Up, and Away…..

I rarely get more than one shot of a bird on the wing from any particular flush.  If there's any cover at all, it's hard enough to get a single shot, period.  Here's a set from a recent trip to the field.  This bird flushed straight up.  No burst mode on my camera, if there is, I haven't figured out how to use it.  So, each image is a separate press of the shutter.  Sometimes I get lucky.
I like the look of old time photos, sepia seemed to do them justice.  Stripped of color, one can search for the most interesting elements of an image.  Just for grins, I've also shown the color versions.  It's interesting to note how one's eye is drawn to color.  In this case fluorescent orange, which, in my opinion, is one of the most obnoxious colors created.  But, from a hunter safety standpoint, it's a necessity. 
It's also interesting to note the changes in direction by the bird during the flush. It gets up, straight as can be facing away, turns, then turns a…

A Pleasant Pheasant Saturday

We got away for a few hours on Saturday.  The dogs needed work.  We needed exercise.  The forecast looked pretty good.  Getting to pheasant country in Montana often involves sitting in a vehicle while driving hundreds of miles.  That luxury was not ours.  So we did the next best thing, we went the route of the shooting preserve.  Considering fuel and time and the condition of my back (there is no such thing as a comfortable seat, in any vehicle), it was a good choice. We'd been to Sanborn's before.  Handy, nice cover, good birds, pretty views too.
Emma was the first dog to hit the field.  She settled down after the obligatory initial craziness.  We encountered quite a few birds that had survived hunts from previous days.  They were cagey and flushed wild.
Now, pheasants and pointing dogs are not a match made in heaven.  Play fair?  You gotta be kidding. Even released birds have a survival instinct that's second to none.  Springsteen wrote the song, pheasants wrote the boo…

Cats, Dogs, Birds

Getting out in the winter can be a challenge.  Pick your days if you can.  Restless dogs.  Restless humans too.  A sunny Saturday was forecast.  Bird season was long over.  Still, the opportunity exists to work dogs if one doesn't mind hunting on a preserve.  We went.

The day was sunny, eventually warming into the low fifties.  The high mountain valley was bare of snow.  Wind? Yes.  Plenty.  Enough to move soil from the cropped fields.  We squinted a lot and chased our hats while getting peppered by airborne grit.

The birds.  Even though pen-reared, behaved as pheasants do.  The hens held tight, tight, tight.  The roosters ran like hell.  The brisk wind made for confounding scenting conditions for the dogs.  Tough for a pointing dog, or four.  It took a while, but they eventually sorted it out.  Pretty well actually, after the initial mayhem.  Once flushed, the birds flew extremely well.  Especially with the added benefit of a substantial wind under their wings.  But, the dogs got…