Mojo Rising

Life presents us with a series of options, or choices. For example, your knees buckle, you lose your shoe and you can come clean and say you're a sick old elitist drunk, or you can lie. Your choice. Again, you can sit at home whining like a sad old deplorable, or you can get out in the field. I chose the latter option and went out in search of dove.

We set up on the tailgate, in partial shade, and waited for the birds to come swooping down on the Mojo and associated decoys. A few came in, shots were fired and a couple of birds went down, though more got away.

"Once again," said GWB sagely, "this has been about learning. I've learned that I have to go to the skeet range." I agreed, "And I've discovered that if you actually aim at a bird you have a better chance of shooting it." Dove hunting wisdom.

Then, as dusk was falling, two of the feathered rockets dived down on the Mojo with a kind of persistent fury, attacking it with beak and claw in the light of the setting sun. It was like The Birds but more frightening, because it was real. I lined up a shot on the avian predators and... nothing! No round in the chamber, good work, LSP, and by the time my beat up pump had pumped they were gone.

Don't worry, birds, there'll be a return match.

Shoot the gun,

LSP

Opening Day

"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,

LSP

Closing Day Mojo

I'll be honest, after driving around the country to say Mass and then to Waco to visit the sick in hospital, I wasn't too keen on going dove hunting.

But my philisophical pal, GWB, tipped up looking for action, so off we went to catch the last two hours of dove season.

The clouds were grey and threatening and a chill wind blew over the waterlogged fields. It felt like Yorkshire, in June, and I wished I'd worn Wellingtons as I walked the treelines, hoping for a bird or two to rocket overhead.

Old Skool Lancruiser

They didn't, but that was alright, it was simply good to be out in the field, shotgun in hand. Armed walkabout over, I joined GWB at the decoys and waited. Soon enough, a couple of feathered predators were lured in by the Mojo and flew towards the setting sun. An easy shot, one went down.

Then a couple of squadrons came in fast, heading west; shoot, pump, and shoot again! I missed, but GWB brought one down with a snap-shot from his 20 gauge O/U Franchi Instinct. 

Dove cleaned, it was back to the Compound for poppers. Fortunately, someone had the good sense to bring along a quorum of previously shot birds from an earlier hunt. The tasty morsels found their way to the grill and feasting commenced.

And that was closing day.

God bless,

LSP

Sunday Shoot

Sunday evening seemed like a good time to drive out to a friend's ranch and shoot some dove, which is exactly what me and GWB tried to do.

We set up in a favorable treeline and waited for the birds to fly. We had high hopes, shotguns, a Mojo decoy and we'd seen plenty of dove while driving in.

An hour later it was getting near dark, a very beautiful twilight, to be sure, but no birds. So we fell back to the pickup, unloaded the guns and reached into the Yeti for a couple of cold ones. The lack of action was a disappointment but not by much, it was just good to get out in the field and enjoy that time when night is setting in over the fields.

Then, just as the first sip of the right stuff went down, two dove shot over. "Did you see that?" I asked GWB. "Unh hunh," he answered perceptively. Two more flew over, then a small wave, followed by a larger one and on and on. Just a lot of dove and well within range.

Kindly Old LSP

"I guess we know where to find the birds," I uttered with rare rhetorical insight. "Oh yeah," replied the parser of post-structuralist word games, "right above the beer concession."

I was tempted to do a quick reload and have at it but no, we had had our chance, and the birds had theirs.

God bless,

LSP

Mojo Rising

Perhaps you think that this post is all about the high-stepping lead singer of the Doors, who used to call himself the "Lizard King". It's not. It's about dove hunting and the Mojo dove decoy in particular.

Standing On The Runway Waiting For Takeoff

The beauty of the Mojo is that that it has spinning wings (battery powered), comes with a sturdy metal stake that you can put it on and, most importantly, brings in the dove. At least it has done, often.

Someone Else's Photo

This evening it didn't hurt and GWB shot a couple of Mojo lured birds as they came in fast over our setup in a treeline.

Blind Faith

But I wasn't having much luck, so I went for a stroll and shot a rabbit. Streak of movement to the right, shoot! One bunny for the pot.

Clean That Rabbit

As dusk set in the dove started flying in waves, high and fast. Brisk action and plenty of shots fired, but no result. The moon, on the other hand, was waxing full.

God bless,

LSP

Dove Mojo

Dove season's over, at least until December, and most weeks I've been able to get out in the field against the  avian acrobats. The result? An awful lot of sound and shotgun fury along with a small but steady stream of birds for the frying pan or grill.

Tasty

In previous years I'd beat the treelines and fields hoping to surprise the feathered adversaries and shoot them as they broke cover. There's an excitement in that; you hear the birds feeding and move in their direction, senses sharp, then bang, they explode from cover and bang, off goes the gun. Sometimes you get a hit and there's a bird or two for the bag. But more often than not they have your measure and fly before you're in range.

Mojo

This year involved a bit of that but the focus was on the set up. Conceal yourself in a likely place and wait for the dove to fly in. GWB introduced a Mojo decoy, which is a plastic dove on a spike with battery powered wings. I was skeptical. Surely the keen eyed birds would scorn the fakey lure. Not a bit of it. They'd fly straight in, dive bombing the Mojo, leaving you to break cover and snap off a shot.

But remember, if the birds see you skulking about the Mojo they won't take the bait.

Just sayin'.

LSP