I've got a group of buddies that have been making an annual trip out to Kansas for the last 15 years or so. I took a break from the trip for about three years for various reasons (dating, engagement, marriage). This year I decided that I had to rekindle the Thanksgiving pheasant hunting tradition because my almost two year old GSP had not yet got a whiff of the long tailed birds.
My traveling buddy, Big Wally, and I departed on the 17th and 16 hours later we were back in Kansas. The rest of the group was already there. The weather forecast called for 50s & 60s. Those temps are a little warm for my taste but I'd packed as if I was going to take the place over.
After a decent nights sleep, we set into our morning routine of a big breakfast and then watching the sunrise.
My anticipation level was a little high for the first field. I wondered what Hazel would do when she smelled her first rooster? I had tried to prep her by explaining that these guys run like track stars. We had watched youtube videos of roosters flushing. All that was left to do was to step in the field.
We got about 20 yards into the first field and Hazel had a solid point right in front of me. I figured the bird was long gone and moved in for the flush. Two quail exploded and I dropped one. A quick retrieve and we were on the board.
About 50 yards further a covey of about 15 flushed ahead of the dogs. I think one rooster was taken from the first field. For one reason or another all the pheasant had moved to the far corner of the field and Hazel and I were left out of the action.
I love looking at the sites between fields. Hard to imagine what finally caused people to up and leave. I have a lot of respect for the folks who make a living by working this beautiful land.
It wasn't long until the temperatures really started to plunge. The folks at the Weather Channel were off a bit.