On October 1, 2010, the opening day for pheasants in Saskatchewan, the sun rose at 6:59AM. At least that is what the records shows. I wouldn't know. I was still sawin' logs. There had been too many forum discussions going on the night before and I had hit the hay close to midnight. I awoke. It was dark and I felt refreshed. The clock showed 12:35. Oh. So, close the eyes and try again. Woke again in the dark, feeling not quite as refreshed and saw 1:14. Next was 4:11 and I'm thinking now I'm really tired. I guess I was right. When next the eyes blinked open, the room was bright and not by lamplight. Clock showed 7:40. I imagined what some old plug horse must have felt like at the end of a long day of busting sod and concluded that's how I felt right then. Stumbled to the kitchen and somehow a pot of coffee materialized. With a cup into me, the caffeine ricocheting through the veins got me moving. Quick shower and then on with the hunting garb. Now that caught CHARLIE's attention, which brought KYRA out of sweet repose. A real sniff fest was underway. Hunting dogs just know what that pair of bedraggled double-canvas upland pants means for them. There was no use doing anything now until they were loaded into the rolling kennel, formerly known as a '98 Pontiac Firefly. That done, now food and water for everyone and then the guns and ammo.
This was to be a special day. Any opener is special but I was going to “break-in” a new to me GHE. Backup was a VH (always take two, just in case). The GHE was formerly owned by an avid hunter who has lost his health and can no longer enjoy the field. He had kept a log for several years and a lot of harvested game birds attested to both his prowess and the gun's performance. The Damascus tubes on this work horse were a source of consternation for some of his hunting partners; so to squelch their fears, he sent it to Birmingham England for proofing and cosmetic attention for the barrels. End result, nitro proofed for 3 ¼ tons per square inch. And the cosmetics?? To his surprise, browned barrels came back. No matter, back to the field. His hunting buddies gained a new appreciation for the reality of good Damascus barrels. A PGCA member on the forums put me on to this gentleman and after we discussed life and guns, he was more than pleased to have it end up with me, back on the prairies where he too had hunted it years earlier.
After a check of the forum, another cup of coffee with Kay, the pups and I headed south. It was 9:00AM. We took a break about half way to our destination for a leg stretch and the first cup of coffee from the thermos. While there, a ½ ton pulled in and another hunter got out. I was about to meet this years “Hunting Hero” - not because of prowess, just the fact he was out there, by himself at the tender age of 83. We pushed a bit of cover but nothing there. We parted company, speaking of getting together later in the season.
We rolled into the farm where the day was to commence. No one home but 10 year old RIO, a dog that lives to hunt. It had been pre-arranged that if no one was home, RIO was to join us. And so it was that Jack CHARLIE, KYRA and RIO headed to pheasant cover along the creek putting faith in canine noses, a GHE and some Remington #6 Game loads. It was 11:00AM.
About 10 minutes out, the dogs flushed a rooster. The GHE barked. CHARLIE picked it up. Now that was a confidence builder for me. I had been having a lot of misses last year with a VH, to the point I hauled out the 870. We wandered for a couple hours, putting up hens and out-of-range roosters. A flock of huns always gets the heart pounding but they were too far out. CHARLIE kept nosing around and a single flushed. GHE let the payload go exactly to where it was pointed, which, apparently was nowhere near that hun. Same for the next rooster. A nice flush at no more than 15 yards and the fourth shot of the day brought down the second rooster. After a lot of slugging through tough cover, another opportunity burst skyward. Got a double, but not one that qualifies for a pin. Left tube disturbed some feathers and right tube dropped the rooster into the middle of the creek. CHARLIE dove in and snagged it and swam to the bank, promptly dropping the bird and clawing her way out of the water. There was no convincing her that she needed to get back in there. She had done her part. Luckily there were no other cameras around to see me laid out on the bank and stretching my arm with GHE attached to just catch a wing and drag it in. I dried the tubes immediately. So that was it. We had our limit in four hours. Not too shabby for an old guy, two old dogs and a pup. RIO was pleased to see her kennel again and we three headed for a slow drive home, taking pictures and checking, to no avail, for huns or sharptails.
A few of the day's pictures.
10-03-2010, 09:05 AM
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