What Makes a Red Letter Day?
 

Some of my favorite sporting writers have described red letter days in their hunting careers. Over many years of hunting, I have long realized that in the end, I'm hunting experiences, not numbers of birds reduced to bag. When I look back through my shooting journal I see entries where I noted some red letter days. I remember every one.

This past week we were able to visit a farm that has provided some good hunting for us over the years. The day was warm for mid-December, and a bit breezy -- not good scenting conditions. I'd decided to use a new-to-me CHE 20 that had served me well during our October grouse hunt. Alder was out of commission with a foot injury, so young Aspen had the day to himself. The week had produced some decent hunting and good opportunities for him, and this day turned out to be the best of the season so far. After a long walk in on a mud road, we began our day hunting the closer, southern section of the farm. We found three coveys of birds, all healthy in number, with one containing over twenty birds. Although Aspen found and pointed the coveys and some singles, I did not have good shot opportunities. The birds knew the property boundaries well, and where every thicket was located...but we walked back to the truck for lunch with four nice Bobs to show Alder, who was pouting about not getting out.

After the break for lunch and a short nap, we headed back down the mud road to the northern part of the farm. Another covey find by Aspen and some better opportunities added to our bag. Aspen hunted hard even in the warmer temperatures. I remarked to Elaine on how much progress he'd made so far this season, and, especially, this day.

The day was waining and we had a long walk back to the truck, so Elaine and I decided it was time to turn south. As we headed out, I found a nice roost just off the mud road and told Elaine that this looked like a perfect spot for a covey -- great cover, far back on a road that would be inaccessible to those not willing to walk in. Elaine took some photos of the roost, and as we headed back to the truck in the final hour of this short winter day, Aspen found his 5th covey of the day -- and made his 13th point. My last shot of the day also completed our limit.

A limit of wild quail is not only unusual for us, it's not something we ever really seek these days. I watch "our coveys" closely, and we seldom take more than a bird or two from them on any given hunt, generally leaving with no more than a brace of birds for the day. This day, though, with its good bird numbers and the chances they offered to a pup in training, seemed like the right occasion to honor Aspen's good work with some quail for him to retrieve. He was a tired guy at day's end, and his tail was showing it on his last point. I can't speak for Elaine, but my tail was dragging, too. The long walk out put us back at the truck near sunset, just as the wind calmed. We all were that kind of tired that reminds you of time and energy well spent.

This was a Red Letter Day for me. Not because of the numbers of birds, and for no one particular aspect of the day, but for the combination of things that made it memorable. The good work of a developing dog, shooting a treasured gun well, being in great country on a beautiful day...and sharing it all with Elaine. I'm not sure I would ask for more even if I could.

I'm curious what makes a Red Letter Day for other members. I invite you to share your thoughts on this post, and I hope you will...and that it will bring back a good memory or two for you. Merry Christmas!

Doesn’t get any better! Wild birds, great dog work, beautiful country and a CHE 20!

I can recall one hunt on a particularly cold and snowy day hunting my uncles farm. Only one covey was located by my setter Ringo. He held a beautiful point under leaden skies with snow softly falling. I connected on one bird with a single shot. Ringo retrieved it to hand. One covey, one bird, one shot and a single retrieve. But it was special and I consider it a red letter day.

A Red Letter Day for sure, Reggie. And for what it's worth, I mentioned you to Elaine as we were walking out and talking about the gun I used on this special day.

Great post and great photos. I would die to hunt wild quail. No such birds where I am unfortunately. Thanks for sharing.

Garry,
After not hunting for so many years, my red letter days seem to be almost every time I can get out to hunt. Some days that stick out for me was my brittany Cash and I on our 1st opening day together. I was driving along a dirt road and saw a grouse run across the road. I parked 100 yards away and walked towards where the bird crossed. What happened after that was magical, we must of found a family of grouse that hadn't broken up yet. There were birds everywhere, some of the grouse flew across the road, Cash had a perfect point on his first woodcock there too. I never took a shot, I had a couple opportunities, but at that point I did not realize just how hard it would be to get a good open shot. I was so happy just watching the excitement of my new dog. I drove right over to our breeders house and told him what happened. I think he was as happy as we were for our day. Another was that first year watching cash late in the season trailing a grouse, I was not even sure what he was doing, it was very open there and the leaves were down, I could see everything, he would circle a little, nose to ground, he went on a quick point, I suddenly realized he was trailing a bird, by then the bird flushed, my gun was down, what a moment that was actually seeing him trail a bird. I am glad you started this thread.

I can't define what makes a red letter day, but I know when they happen. I think it's a combination of things that can't be fit into a formula ........location has a lot to do with it for me.

One day my buddy and I were hunting wild "birds" on my place. He was in his truck and I in mine, hopping from place to place where I had seen birds before. I pulled up at the end of a hedgerow that I knew a covey of birds particularly likes. As I walked around the back of the truck I heard something and looked into the end of the hedgerow and saw a covey scurrying about, nervous about the truck. It was thick so they felt safe enough not to bust out across the adjacent field.

When my buddy drove up and got out I said "Shut your door easy, they're right here". He grinned and said "Okay", not believing me. Dogs were turned out and in a few seconds they had the covey dead to rights. We took opposite sides of the hedgerow, entering the edges. They busted out on my side and I doubled with my BSS.

We could have gone on home, 'cause we didn't find another bird the rest of the day. Only one covey, only two birds bagged, but a red letter day.

Good thread, Garry! As Bob Hope used to say "Thanks, for the memories".

There are lots of things that can add up to a red letter day for me. Often it is good weather, a good familiar cover, the dog doing exactly what he is supposed to do, and a run where I need not say a word to the dog from beginning to end. Of course, a few birds thrown in helps but is not necessary.

I'm sitting here waiting for it to warm up for our Christmas Day hunt (it's 4 degrees right now!) and reflecting on the replies posted (thank you!). Like those who have responded, I don't recall a Red Letter Day without some good weather and a dog doing what she or he is supposed to do.

what a great day and pictures, thanks for sharing it with us

One of them I remember was stepping out of my truck and Lucy flushing two pheasants, a hen and rooster, and me doubling on them. Stocked birds no doubt from that morning. Not too sporting, no watercolor painting here folks with colors ablaze and a dog on point. She was an old grey Lab who was my first good dog. She retrieved one, then the other, to hand. We were out five minutes. I lifted her into the truck and we went home. Her life was complete and she was gone a few weeks later. That was one I remember because it wasn't about me, but about her.

Andy, that is indeed a day to remember, and more of a "watercolor painting" than I could imagine.

Looking back on the last 10 years my red letter days involve the success of my sons and grand children. My granddaughters first woodcock that i had flushed and marked and she walked in and made the shot. I think that was the high point of my hunting life until my grandsons first grouse the next year. I seem to get more satisfaction out of their success than my own. Fishing is the same, when i put someone on to a fish it is better than my catching it myself.

With close to 40 years of being owned by bird dogs i could write a book on Red Letter days. Two come to mind one recently (last year) and one from long ago.

I've been going to Georgia Quail hunting each January for the last 6-7 years and last year was the first time I took my dogs along. Ike was just 2 and Duke was a year. There within a couple of weeks of each other both born in September.

Ike and Duke AKA The Boys had never hunted together until then. They worked together as if they had been doing it for years instead of hours. The short story version is while out looking for a single Ike pointed a covey that had been overlooked by the guides dog. We had let Ike out to stretch his legs and he found the covey in minuets of being out of the box. We let Duke out as well after that just to see how they might due together. Previously they had been hunting separately. Either myself or my hunting partner dropped a bird in a Palmetto grove and for the love of God couldn't find it. Duke was on point and we searched and kicked the cover with no results. I ran my foot litterly under Dukes nose and he never budged. We thought the bird must of run off and broadened our search that is all of us (two hunters a guide and his dogs) except Duke. I glanced back and Duke took a half a step and picked up the bird. The guide didn't believe he was just past a year old and that Ike was just over two. For three days he tried to buy them.
The Boys are retuning to Georgia next month.

Long ago before I had a Parker I had a GSP named Sturm. We were walking a fence row when he pointed. Expecting a Pheasant I was shocked when a grouse flushed and even more surprised when he flew straight away. I was in my M12 phase then and was using a 28ga skeet gun. My next bewilderment was that after two shots the bird was still flying heading for a wood lot. Sturm and I followed the flight path and along the way saw a drop of blood on a leaf. Shortly Sturm locked up on point along a dead fall. I kicked and busted branches but there was no flush. The bird was dead under a fallen log. When I cleaned it there was on pellet hole in the breast that must have gotten a lung.

While I have lots of pictures of The Boys, Daisy, Ilsa, and Gunner on either my computer or phone the one of Sturm on that day is only etched in my memory but it's still bright and vivid even after all these years.

I wish I knew how to get pics from my phone to the computer:banghead: It's NOT a red letter day when your phone is smarter than the operator :rotf:

Rich, email some pictures to me at g.g2@aol.com and I'll try to post them for you. I would like to see the boys in action.

Here are Rich's Boys...apparently enjoying themselves:

I chose grouse hunting over shooting clays today. Just got done pulling 50 quills from my Otis’s face lips and gums. NOT A RED LETTER DAY. Gotta love Labs. This was his FIFTH porcupine. Remember the good days when these days strike!

Gosh, Andy, I hope you got them all out. Those vile quills can travel unseen and cause lots of issues. But, if this is Otis' 5th time, you are probably a pro at extracting them. I hate porkies! I don't hate much, but they are on my list for sure.

I got them all. I know they can be a real problem. I hog tied him with duct tape and then jammed a 2" stick in the back of his mouth while sitting on him. He bled like a stuck pig. After the first two times that cost me $400 each time with a vet trip, I learned to do this. That's why I hog tie and get that mouth open. Being a Lab his memory is about two seconds. He still loves me.

It all makes me cringe. I had a male Gordon that could not leave porkies alone. The last time he tangled with one we had to take him to the vet to have the few we could not get in his mouth removed. While he was under anesthesia, his heart stopped. They revived him, but three days later he dropped over dead after beginning to retrieve a grouse he'd pointed. We are still not sure what happened, and it haunts me to this day, but I shoot porkies on sight now when I come across them.

I hope Otis is okay.

Garry I really do appreciate the thoughts and I will keep rechecking him. Compared to the first two times, this was a lighter one. The very first one was terrible they were very large quills in his eyelids and nose and gums and lips, probably 100 after he kept grabbing the damn thing. I'm not one to just kill something to kill it, but this one is dead today. My vet told me about the quills migrating to the lungs and heart and I'm sorry to hear about your loss. Didn't mean to hijack this thread, it's supposed to be a happy thread : )

No worries, Andy, just keep a close eye on Otis. Threads go where they may!

A recent RLD.

I'd like to see that in person -- what a sight! I'd probably forget to shoot.

Ah, nothing much better than bird dogs at work.

That’s a really nice picture Phil - definitely should be framed!





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I’m new to PGCA and thought I’d add a late note to this great chain of hunting “red letter days”. Last October a friend of mine had to return home from hunting camp and “lent” me his 28 ga Parker Repro. A little background on him- he’s the only one of the five of us not yet retired (we all rent a log cabin every October up north for bird season) and the youngest, in his fifties. He works in a very large gun store and has a life long passion for doubles, especially the classics. Every year when he arrives at camp we drool over the 3 or 4 new (old) shotguns he has acquired or is “trying out”. In any case, he found himself in a quandary. He owned this 28 ga repro with a pistol grip stock but he had just tried out an identical 28 ga repro only with an English stock and liked that better. I knew what he was up to. He thought if he “lent” it to me that I would fall in love with it and buy it from him so he could re-invest in other Parkers since he liked the English stock version better. I don’t fall for this trick any more because I’ve known him for too long and have bought many shotguns from him. On the other hand, I wasn’t about to turn down the opportunity to try out this little beauty. I was now alone with my 2 Griffs (and my loaner 28 ga repro) to fend for myself in the northern woods infested with woodcock and grouse. We hit a sweet little woodcock covert that runs along a stream that empties into a larger stream. 15 minutes into the covert, my 2 year old griff crosses in front of me and jambs on the breaks skidding to a stop. It was as though his nose had been snagged by a large fishhook dangling from an alder. But it was no fishhook. It was the sweet scent of a woodcock. I promptly walked up. The bird launched with that classic whistling twitter from behind an old apple tree. I could not see the bird at first. But the direction was right before me so I began to mount the 28 side by side. Suddenly the timberdoodle appeared right in the notch between the two main branches of this old wild apple tree. As it sped away it imbedded an image that shall remain forever in my mind. Because the Parker Repro fit me so well the butt found my shoulder and my cheek the stock and all I could see was this bird on the bead at the end of the barrels as it moved out to about 25 yards. I pulled the forward trigger and down went the bird. The griff fulfilled his duty by bringing that beautiful woodcock to hand. It’s that fall dance that all of us who hunt know- dog, bird, scent, point, flush, gorgeous Parker to shoulder and bird back to hand. Then I shouted a really bad expletive because that darn friend of mine had done it again. I violated that golden rule. If you don’t want to buy the car don’t test drive it! And yes, now I own it. My first repro. What a fine memory.

Chris, welcome! It is a Red Letter Day when a new gun proves it fits you. Congratulations.

That’s a really nice red-letter story Chris.





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Chris,
Thats a nice story for sure, and welcome to the forum. I think I hunt with the "twin" that sold you your gun:)

I recall a red letter duck day, from 2-3 years back. I've been chasing green heads in eastern AR for 25+ years. When my oldest grandson got big enough to handle a duck gun I took him with me and he killed his first mallards. A couple years later his younger brother showed interest in going with us, so we made it a threesome.

i was shooting my 32" HE Fox with 1 1/4 oz. handloads of #4 bismuth. There were five of us in the big floating blind that morning and it was a good day. Both grandsons killed ducks, and Grandad was on a pretty good roll. I had killed a mallard and a widgeon, with two shots. Then I killed a gadwall with one shot. A drake and a hen mallard circled and made the commitment. Just as I pulled on the drake the hen cut behind him and I dumped them both with one shot. I was thinking that I was five for four shells. Thinking stuff like that can get to you. I said to myself "Myself, if you kill the next one with one shell you will have a 6 duck limit with 5 shells". Next duck I had a shot at was a big mallard drake, all by his lonesome. He circled the dekes four or five times, talking it up. The wind was in our faces, and he came from behind. I hit him hard....... I thought. As he was falling I could tell he had lots of life left in him and would be a swimmer, so I hit him again before he hit the water, with the left barrel.

https://www.jpgbox.com/jpg/62088_800x600.jpg

Ended the morning six for six, and both grandsons killed ducks. That was indeed a red letter day, but I remember another one in that same blind, with that same gun. My friend and his Dad were with me. They own the land. And, another friend from AR was with us. Slow morning. We had killed 6 or 8 when a lone drake mallard starting circling the hole. He was lonesome, but wary. He came from behind and I thought, from the way he was losing altitude, that he was going to set down in the dekes. He saw something at the last minute that he didn't like and starting climbing, going straight away. I put that big Fox's bead on him and sent a load of bismuth chasing him. It hit him hard and he shuddered, but kept going, climbing slightly. When my load hit him he was probably 45 yards out, and many of you know how hard it is to anchor a duck with a straightaway shot, if you don't break a wing. He flew out to about 170 yards then put both wings out rigid and crashed to the water, behind some tall trees. My older friend said that I had the only gun in the blind that would have made that shot, with it's tight chokes and the bismuth.

My younger friend commanded his young black Lab Max to "Mark!". He sent him through the decoys, across the big hole. Into the trees he swam ..........out of sight completely. We waited and waited. I was getting worried about Max because he had been gone so long and there was nowhere the water was shallow enough for him to touch bottom. I mentioned that we might should get in the boat and go see about him. We waited a couple more minutes and my friend said "Look at that!" Max was coming back through the trees and we could barely make out a green head hanging in front. Finest duck retrieve I ever witnessed ........... at least 180 yards, blind retrieve with no correction from his master, out of sight of us, in deep water.

SRH

That's awesome Chris. I'm only a number of months ahead of you with Parkers and my 28 Repro is my favorite gun. Be careful, I'm starting to tumble down the slippery slope. I'm headed to Robbin Hollow in a few weeks to try to unload stuff I no longer use and fund another purchase (or two).

Stan, your first account reminds me of a particular Gordon McQuarrie story, Bluebill Day, in which he describes a hunt that found him alone and with only a partial box of shells. One of the best duck hunting stories I have ever read. After reading your description of that 6-fo-6 day, I'll bet you'd enjoy it for sure.

Thanks for posting. One of these days I hope to hunt ducks in the flooded timber of Arkansas.

I'll look that one up, to be sure, but I think I've read it. No matter....... I'll read it again.

Thanks, Garry

Did someone mention 6 for 6? Now that just brought back another red letter memory! About 5 years ago my buddy, with his English Cocker, and I, with my Griffon, hunted an abandoned 100 acre apple orchard. It was tucked away and did not get much hunting activity and was a magnet for both grouse and woodcock. That’s the good news…the bad is that it was severely overgrown and full of bitter sweet and wild roses and tough, even by New England standards, on man and his best friend. But this place was made for a dog that could point and his little buddy who would furrow underneath the prickles and flush whatever was hiding.
We would hunt this covert only once or twice per season and would run the rows, my buddy on one and I would be in the next with dogs coursing their way through. My buddy is an incredibly good wing shot. I am not, even after 40+ years of hunting and clays I’m a B+ on a great day and more frequently a C+. Within 5 minutes that little cocker booted 2 woodcock from underneath apple trees and my buddy took them with one shot each. 5 minutes later he took a third, again with a single shot. No sooner had I started to feel left out when my pup went on point. We called the cocker around and he flushed the bird, which was just swinging behind a thicket of dead apple branches and bittersweet when I shot. Thinking I was behind the bird and late, I was pleased when the griff brought the plump hen back to me. My friend couldn’t help but saying, “Gee…that’s 4 for 4, now you have to get the next 2 with one shot each.” He knew darn well that was jinx talk. Anything he could do to psych me out was entertainment for him. We kept hunting. About 200 yards later at the end of the orchard my pup went on a hard point. Now I’m nervous. There was plenty of open sky and little excuse for missing. I took one step and a woodcock went up. As I shot and the bird came down- phew! On the shot a second bird exploded 15 feet to my left and headed away. With feet tangled in underbrush I did my best to quickly replant my body in the direction of the birds flight. I shot and unbelievably to me the bird folded and crashed over a stone wall in a open pasture. The pup proudly made both retrieves. I was so stunned by my actually having shot the second bird that I had to be reminded by my buddy that we had each taken our limit of woodcock- 3 birds each with 3 shots each. And nothing tastes better than chopped woodcock breast meat in an omelet with some cheddar.
Again, my thanks to all of you for your fond hunting red letter memories and so pleased to hear that old Parkers are still bringing meat to the table and sweet dreams for our hunting dogs…

Chris, that was an awesome hunt! 6 for 6 on 'doodles is a lot harder than decoyed ducks! Y'all should have gone straight to the nearest lottery ticket seller.

SRH

A great 6/6 story Chris. Very well told!

I’ll have to try that omlette next fall, but with Cabot Vermont Seriously Sharp Cheddar. I’ve eaten all of my woodcock breasts from this last fall of woodcock in the Scrubapple Hillside covert this past October as medium rare sauteed hors d’ouvres.





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6 for 6
 

Couple of notes on the picture of that red letter 6 for 6 woodcock day with my buddy.
1. We staged the after photo on the back of my buggy when we got home. Actually we are pretty much blue collar hunters.
2. Yes the big dog is a full blooded Griffon from a breeder in Montana that likes, as I do, really tight coats. His coat is half way between GSP and GWP.
3. Don't let the size of my buddy's English Cocker fool you...he was a fearless working bird machine.
3. No there wasn't a parker in this picture because it was a couple years before I became corrupted by ridiculous Parker fever... (:

good stories...rare moments are never forgotten about hunting....nice field your buggy is sitting in....charlie

Now I'm hungry...again! Woodcock breast and Vermont Sharp (Seriously) Cheddar sound very compatible. Hmmm...can you drink a nice red wine for breakfast?