| Page / 1 / 2 / 3 | ||
 Several dove decoys placed in highly visible places along the doves flight path, such as in a dead tree on the edge of a crop field or on a barbed-wire fence can give the birds the added confidence needed to bring the birds into shotgun range. Photo by: Author With the heat of the day still hanging in the air, and the dogs’ tongues dragging, we walked towards the small farm pond at the field’s edge. As the dogs cooled themselves in the water I sat in the shadow of the ancient oaks, monarchs that have played witness to the passing of countless hunting seasons and generations of hunters. The huge trees lined the far end of a sorghum and sunflower field. It had been planted early in the spring and the yellow flowers and crowned heads were now ripe with clusters of dark brown seeds. The fields were testaments to the stewardship my hosts have with the land, for these fields had been planted solely for the native game populations. Each year throughout the U.S. more and more landowners and hunters are committing themselves and becoming increasingly involved with wildlife conservation efforts. These include, but not limited to; quality game management efforts, planting food plots or leaving stands of crops unharvested for food and cover and the management and reclamation of forests and wetlands. I watched as the shadows grew longer and a steady stream of doves began flying over my position towards the center of the field. The shooting across the field caused some birds to turn back and fly towards my natural blind. My two Springers were back at my side, their eyes transfixed on the horizon. I laughed to myself as I watched them follow birds through the sky, their heads moving in unison, as if watching a tennis match. There were so many doves flying in so many directions, they could not keep their concentration on a single bird for more than a few seconds. After the flight of birds had slowed and the shooting subsided, I walked into the cut-over with the dogs to recover some of the doves downed earlier. We made our way through the tangle of briars, branches, pine saplings and burnt stumps. The dogs each recovered several downed birds and brought them to hand. Suddenly, a stand of honeysuckle and thorns erupted at my feet, a covey of bobwhites rose from the thick layer of knee-high cover, startling me. As the quail set their wings and glided over a hilltop, my heart started beating again. I stood there with shotgun in hand and dogs at my side, listening as the covey began to call to one another. The dogs’ ears were perked to attention and their heads cocked to one side as the birds called back and forth. For several long minutes I stand there listening, enjoying their melodious chorus and the promise of things to come. | ||
| Go back to Page 2 |
|
||||
