"Mornin', looks like Summer's back," I called out to my neighbor, through the humid miasma of a Texan September 1st. "Yeah, happens 'bout every 100 years," he growled. "Sure, it's like a war," I replied, hauling an empty trash can behind the compound's perimeter. And that was the start of Opening Day, but not the finish.
A few hours later we were in a dove field, somewhere in Texas, setting up. Rigs parked, decoys out, shooters positioned strategically and then wait, in the sweltering heat. No birds, just heat and steam rising up from the waterlogged ground. Then things changed.
Clouds rolled in from the North, along with thunder, complementing the sound of distant shots. Somewhere, not too far away, birds were coming in and there was action. Would it come our way?
Cooler weather certainly did, a big relief, and with it, small groups of dove, in twos and threes, came barreling over the treeline at the decoys as lightning arced from the sky, and the guns blazed away like the flak towers of Old Berlin. All against the far-off barrage of thunder.
Pretty dramatic, and the shooters down the line got the best of it, downing 8 birds in fairly quick succession. Good work, boys. It was slower from my position but still, not bad. I shot enough to get the adrenaline up, as well as missing enough to guard against the sin of pride.
Then, as dusk set in, we fell back to HQ to grill up some poppers and sausages and I tell you, a good day was had by all.
Get out in the field,