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Join Date: Nov 2009
Posts: 223
Thanks: 375
Thanked 157 Times in 57 Posts
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Thanksgiving and the Pheasant on the Hill
During the last couple weeks I was able to pheasant hunt a certain area not to far from the homestead. A section of this area as you head in, has a hill and on the crest of this hill is a stonewall that runs across acres of farmland on one side and the thickest of natures barbwire that you have ever seen in your life on the other. Sheer hell! At the bottom of the hill it clears to a path then swamp. On my first excursion into this area I saw this big beautiful pheasant at the crest of this hill jump over the stone wall into this mass of thorns. Well, being the dedicated hunter that I am, I decided to go into these "hell of thorns" after him. After a few minutes the dog was yelping and it was clear this area is not penetratable. In all my years of hunting I have never encountered thorns so thick and sharp. We pulled back and went on with the hunt without any success. A few days later, another trip into the area. Again, heading into the field in the same area where we seen that pheasant. Suddenly, Benny is on the scent. He leads me up to the stone wall were it is just so thick. This big beautiful pheasant flushes up and into a thick set of cedars were I just catch a glimpse of him (no shot). (I just want to point out that the cedars grow along the stone wall). He only flies about 30 yards, glides to the right and lands into this mass of thorn bushes. Again we head in only to be turned back. Another pheasant free day. Now, the afternoon before Thanksgiving in the same area, I am heading out of the woods, this time I am at the bottom of the hill on the pathway between the thorns and swamp. Suddenly we hear a male pheasant cackling. It is coming from the top of the hill as if the pheasant is taunting us. Benny is beside himself. We find an area through the thorns that is somewhat passable and start making our way up the hill. Just as I am ready to crest the hill the pheasant flushes in the opposite direction on the field side (no shot). I cannot see him, do to the cedars that line the wall, so I make quick time just in time to poke my head over the wall and see him heading into the thorns. OK, it finally occurs to me this is the same pheasant using the same route to escape. I decide to dedicate this years "Thanksgiving hunt" to tracking down this "rogue" pheasant and putting and end to his tactics. I wonder how many hunters have endured his mockery?
THE HUNT
Thanksgiving, Benny and I are up before sunset having breakfast and going over our plan of attack for, "Phil" the pheasant. The weather outside was in the low thirties. I put on my usual, brush pants and this time, I put on a nice thick flannel shirt and sweatshirt as well as my muck boots for added protection. As for Benny, I put on his canvas fluorescent hunting chest protector for our entry into the "thorns of hell". When we arrived the sun had already come up. My plan of attack was simple. I was going to come at "Phil" in the direction that he likes to make his escape and throw him off guard, so I parked down the road a bit and came at him in the opposite direction. After a few more sips of hot coffee we headed in. I loaded a 7 1/2 shot in the right barrel and a #6 in the left, both Spread-R loads. As we walked in the woods I noticed the frost had made everything a glistening white. It was beautiful. The air was cool as it entered your nose and lungs. When you took a breath, it made you feel alive. The leaves were crunching under my feet. I can see Benny's breath as he scans for any signs of "Phil". I could feel the cold steel of my Parker through my thin gloves. This is how I remember hunting as a child. The last few years the weather has been up in the 50's and 60's. Yet people say there is no such thing as global warming, but that is another subject. As we made our way to "Phil’s" territory, I decided it was time to get off the path, make our way up the hill and into the area of thorns were he likes to hang out. In this direction the field is on my right, so we are walking on the thorn side with the stone wall dividing the field. Benny and I headed into this "natural barbwire" with caution. It was slow going. Benny was going threw almost on his belly. I had thorns clawing at my shirt, hands and face. The muck boots added much protection. At certain times, I could not even move. It was very frustrating. This has got to be the worst growth I have ever endured. We poked threw this for a good hour. Finally, I see Benny hesitate for a moment and then go into his routine. He is on the scent! He leads me to this huge mass of thorn growth. We are surrounded by it. Now, we are facing the wall with the field on the other side. I watch as Benny cleverly lays on his belly and wiggles his way under the thorns. I knew he was on to him. Suddenly, I hear a cackle and the slapping of wings. I see this big beautiful rooster taking flight. I immediately lift the Parker and put the bead on him and at the same time click the safety off. Of course "Phil", set in his routine starts heading to the right, towards the area he likes to escape to, but I am ready for him. The ivory bead is right on him, I squeeze the front trigger and a load of 7 1/2 shot starts screaming down the barrel, as it leaves the bore, a loud "Bang" breaks the silence of the morning. I see a puff of feathers and "Phil" comes crashing to the ground! I got him! Now, we cannot reach were he fell. It is all thorns. Even in death "Phil" is proving to be an adversary. I unload my Parker and place it down. Benny is trying to reach where "Phil" is resting. He cannot get to him to retrieve him. He was only a few feet away and I was having trouble. Finally, I am able to slide my arm through the thorns and reach him. As I lift him out I notice he is a heavy bird. He has beautiful colors, and nice long tail feathers. Just a beautiful, "thick" ring neck pheasant. OK, it's over and I just want to go home. We start down the hill towards the path, thorns tearing at me. Benny goes his way and I am trying to find my own way down. It is like a silent agreement that we split up and we will find our way through this hell and meet at the bottom were the pathway is. On my way down growth wraps around one of my legs and down I go landing on a huge flat rock on both knees. Pain shot through both legs. Of course my Parker never touched the ground. Finally, I reach the bottom and Benny is there with his nose to the ground and in a zig zag pattern. Yes, he is on the scent. I cannot believe it. At this point I just want out. I reload my double and within seconds a hen flushes and I am able to drop her with one shot. After retrieving the hen we make for the truck. Battered, and exhausted we head home. This limits me out for the 2011 Pheasant Season and what a hunt it was. Benny and I are home now tending our wounds. I am amazed at the damage to my clothing caused by the thorns. Threads are hanging everywhere. Both knees are bruised and cut. Benny is all cut up as well as his nose. We do this for fun?? If I did not experience it, I never would have believed it. We will be back at it next year. Enclosed you will find photos of "Phil".
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11-25-2011, 05:04 PM
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