Showing posts with label dove hunting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dove hunting. Show all posts

Thursday, March 24, 2011

Coyote, Hawk, Horse Gun

powerful LSP medicine

You'll have to forgive the lack of posts but things have been busy with the first two weeks of Lent and the attempt to get some penitential perspective on the business at hand.

camo jacket, now I'm invisible
Still, managed to have a go at the coyotes. Interesting result; got up early to make my stand at first light. Set up, hunkered down and called away (electronically), in a crosswind, upwind of a creek the dogs are running through. Did they come in?

JB and Bebop ready to go
No. Set off a few 'howls' and got a response - uphill and about a 1/4 of a mile away - along with lots of bellows from a herd of cows. The dogs had run uphill towards the bovines before I was in position, they weren't leaving those pastures for my "distressed rabbit", and who can blame them?

bad gelding

But the birds were listening, namely three hawks and a crow that answered the call and circled lazily overhead, looking for the hypothetical wounded bunny. They were neat to watch and it was good to see my call produced results, just not the ones I'd had in mind. So I went to another stand and called again, but then it was too late. No dogs...

But plenty of horses, which I rode. Excellent result.

Moral of the story? Get a better setup and try, try again - perseverance, you see.

God bless.

LSP

Sunday, November 14, 2010

The Best Shot You Never Took In Your Life

Someone's Truck

Running alongside the field where JB's pastured is a dirt road, some grain bins and a large cornfield. A month or so ago the corn fields were harvested and became a veritable dove magnet. There I'd be, unsaddling the horse after a ride, and there the doves would be, in swarms.

Obviously I wanted to get out the gun and have a go, but hesitated to wander off with the yobbish pump action and blast away until I had permission to hunt the land. People frown on unidentified shooters roaming about their land, understandably. So I was pleasantly surprised to find out that the fields in question belonged to a parishioner who was happy to let me shoot.

After making sure (a few days in advance) that the owners of the horselands were alright with the project, I stalked off, Mossberg in hand.

The strategy was simple. Wait for the doves to arrive in their hundreds and shoot them. To that end I walked across a pasture, ducked under a fence, crossed the road, released the safety and... a great clatter of birds erupted from a tree to my front. The avian acrobats dodged the first two shots, but the third went home and a plump, corn-fed creature fell to the ground - just as I hear a great screaming from the direction of the horses. I won't repeat the language but it was strong and directed at the shooter.

I pondered the situation, reapplied the safety, and strode off down-field, thinking with a heavy heart that my riding privileges were about to be revoked. Still the shoot was still on and I figured I might as well see if I could chase up some birds further away. No luck; they liked the area around the grain bins, which I returned to.

Again, a tremendous whirring of wings as countless birds darted out of the trees around the bins, in all directions - just feet away from me. But I wasn't going to shoot and risk the wrath of the horse guardian. Instead I shouldered the gun and watched the quarry speed away to safety; never seen so many of the creatures so close and in the air at the same time.

Frustrating and doubly so when I learned the cause of the screaming. It was all a case of mistaken identity.

It seems a neighbour was in the custom of driving down the dirt road in his pick-up and taking pot-shots at birds from the window of the truck - towards the horses. Bonnie figured that was the source of the shots. Hence the invective; turns out I could have kept shooting. As it was, the one 'bird down' made for a tasty snack.

Moral of the story?

1. Don't shoot out of the window of your truck towards the barn - it spoils it for the rest of us.

2. Tell Bonnie when you're going to shoot.

3. Fresh dove tastes great.

Simple, really.

Hope you've had a blessed Sunday.

LSP


Wednesday, September 1, 2010

Total Disaster.


Completely failed to make it out for opening day of Dove season. Why? Managed to rip a toe open on a swinging door.

Useless. No tramping about the country in search of birds -- no charging about on horses either, at least for a few days.

Annoyed.

LSP

Wednesday, October 7, 2009

Hunt, Church, War



I'm a little jealous of my friend's trout catch but made up for it with some decent shooting - beautiful overcast early evening and enough action to supply a goodish snack for the LSP table; as always, powerful medicine to get out in the field.

Off to the frozen wilds of Wisconsin tomorrow for talks with the OCA (Orthodox Church of America), the Diocese of Fort Worth and ACNA (Anglican Church of North America). The hope here is that some sort of concordat or 'communion statement' will be reached, but more of that later. In the meanwhile...

Why does our government seem set on some sort of 'half mission' in Afghanistan, against the advice of General McChrystal? Seems to me that we should either fight to win, or not at all - an in between effort is surely a tragic waste of lives. Just a thought.

God bless.

LSP

Friday, September 18, 2009

More Birds, Less M.O.D.

Hunting Mourning Doves

Walked the tree lines mid-morning in search of birds, flushed several, missed and was surprised when a second group of three or four of the airborne acrobats cunningly flew over me from behind. I was busy reloading and missed the shot, exciting though to get some wing shot action right out of the gate, as it were.

Continued to a small copse in the middle of a large neighbouring field, thinking, "Ah hah, that looks like the sort of small copse they'd like to loaf about in," and sure enough they did. Got off a couple of successful shots then moved down towards the tree line at the bottom of the field - no shortage of flyers but all out of range, so no joy. Then back to the truck to clean the birds and scout about for more - but there didn't seem to be much action and I headed for home. That seemed to stir them up by the score from their lairs at the side of the road, which I cunningly hadn't hunted. I'll know next time (tomorrow); tree lines, small copse, edge of the fields by the road.

On a completely different theme, check out Michael Yon's excellent reporting from Afghanistan, where he's been embedded with various units until the MOD pulled the plug. One thing that struck me, amongst many, was how under resourced the British troops seem to be. I'd say if you're going to fight a war, you should do so to win - otherwise don't fight at all. Just a thought.

God bless,

LSP

Tuesday, September 15, 2009

Twilight Of The Birds


Sunset over the killing fields
or
Tragic metaphor for the Anglican Communion?

Managed to get out with a gun and have a go at the birds. There weren't many flyers and I missed rather more than I hit; still, got enough for a decent dove snack tomorrow. And all that's more than fine by me because I love shooting - hit or miss - and I love getting out in the country. I find there's a freedom in it. Anyway, hope to revisit the fowling grounds on Friday for more dove and maybe a rabbit or two; saw lots this evening but held off.

On another theme, my philosopher friend GWB alerted me to Wittgenstein's contempt of Mahler; who'd have thought it? Here's what he said:

“If it is true that Mahler’s music is worthless, as I believe to be the case, then the question is what I think he ought to have done with his talent. For quite obviously it took a set of very rare talents to produce this bad music.”

I don't have a dog in the fight, so to speak, because I don't listen to the despised Mahler, but I like the quote. Just think, you could swap out 'Mahler' and 'music' for 'The Archbishop of Canterbury' and 'theology', or 'Ragsdale' and 'ethics', or 'ACORN' and... etc.

Good shooting.

LSP

Friday, September 11, 2009

Rain At Last

Dramatic thunder, lightening and sheets of rain, all of which seem appropriate given today's anniversary. Its good news too for the parched fields and thirsty doves - hopefully the latter will come out in abundance tomorrow. But in the meanwhile the parsonage seems to hiss with the sound of rain.

What a relaxing sound and quite unlike the news that millions of Englishpersons will soon be on some kind of 'nonce' database; whatever happened to "Britons never, ever, ever shall be slaves"? Let's hope that kind of thing doesn't happen here and equally to the point, is stopped there (See Pavlov's Cat, Old Holborn & Railway Eye amongst others).

Speaking of which, LL has an interesting post on freedom. This surely has to be more than 'autonomy of choice' - Augustine would say (I think) that it consists in the act of choosing the good... but I'd welcome any thoughts on the thing.

God bless,

LSP

Tuesday, September 8, 2009

Shoot the Dove!


My yobbish Mossbeg, GWB's posh Browning

Scouted about the treelines for dove with my philisophical friend, GWB. The birds were pretty scarce but we got a few.

Hapless Avian

I like the way they rocket out of the tree, which adds, for me, to the excitement of the shot. But its all good, not least the result.

Gerber Shears Ad

An excellent day out, with the 'acrobatic avians' ending up wrapped in bacon and grilled - tasty. Looking forward to Friday and another installment of gun and bird. Hopefully there'll be a few more flying about.

Good shooting,

LSP

Wednesday, September 2, 2009

No Doves - Snakes

Wanted to go Dove hunting this morning but ended up going to a 'Church Women's' meeting instead, it extended to lunch and the Church Women fell to talking amongst themselves. The primary topic was snakes; I'll give you a precis:

"Well, I heard a mighty bang and figured the air conditioning was out again, but it was only Gene with his gun," nods and grins all 'round, "next mornin, there was a rattlesnake with his head clear blown off."

Again:

"This snake comes sliding out after my puppy and gits distracted, so he wraps himself 'round a water pipe, so we start throwing stuff at it to gittim to move, which he does and my husband shoots him right there. Biggest dam snake..."

After snake-talk we listenned to a poetry recital by John Pelham who writes 'cowboy poetry'. He got emotional talking about his Daddy, as did I, hearing him. Speaking of snakes, you might enjoy this "Don't Tread On Me Fuhrer video" - thanks to All Seeing Eye. Or you might not...

Doves Friday, God willing.

LSP