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And
people ask why we hunt?
By: W. S. Allen
This being a tale
that hunters the world over look forward to with the same zeal that you
see on TV when someone opens the door only to find Publishers Clearing
House waiting there with a check the size of a small car.
The great state of Texas allows two, count them two, dove seasons. The
first starts at the beginning of September with the hear index near that
of the surface of the sun, and then again in late December the second
opens when the mornings are cool and by mid day you can walk around in
shirt sleeves. Paradise found.
I along with my brother Steve, Mark a good friend, and Chris, hunting
fanatics all, hunted deer on our lease that Sunday morning. None
happened my way that morning; just as well I only had one more deer tag.
At lunch, in a local café where from the first Saturday in November to
the first Sunday in January the only thing you see is camo filling every
seat, by unanimous vote we decided to hunt dove in the afternoon.
Our lease is located in Burnet County, Texas. If you hunt deer in Texas
then you know Burnet County’s reputation for big deer, and lots of them.
Along with some really good deer, our lease is home to a large
population of turkey, hogs, coyote, and my personal favorite, White Wing
Doves.
I own a Jeep that is decked out as if it should be on an African safari;
the only thing missing is John Wayne with a rope. This magnificent beast
has two seats attached to the front of the Jeep and two more on the top
of the vehicle. The jeep is painted camo complete with camo netting
covering shooting rails top and bottom with duels ladders to reach the
top two seats.
Again being democratic we voted to see which one of the great white
hunters would drive the jeep. Chris, the only female in the pack lost
the vote, 3-1so she drove. As we voted I could hear Tim Allen, no
relation, growling: “arr arr arr.”
After we’d exiled the frail female to the driver’s seat “ARR ARR ARR.” I
climbed onto the left seat on the front of the Jeep and my brother Steve
rode shotgun, forgive the pun. Our friend Mark drug himself up to the
top seat.
Now we’re ready to pit our skill with a shotgun against one of the
world’s best flyers. We left our camp and head for a creek that runs
through the lease. Since we can’t hunt over feeders we decide the creek
is the place to be. The doves have eaten so much dry corn during deer
season I figure they are too fat to fly fast or high. So much for my
logic. The creek, along with being a good place for the dove’s to quench
what must be a terrible thrust, dry corn and all, will be an ideal place
for us to exercise our shooting skills.
Once there we depart our trusted iron steed and pursue the winged ghost
on foot. The dove hunting safari gets about 50 feet from the Jeep when
out of nowhere a couple of the speedsters break for parts unknown.
Mark is the first to get his gun to his shoulder and fire, a miss, to
prove the first shot wasn’t a fluke he fires again and then again. OH
no, out of ammo. “ARR ARR ARR”
I casually walk over to Bawana and ask, “Do you think Remington knows
they sold you shells without shot in them.” He may have missed the doves
but the look he shot me didn’t.
I said some about him not getting enough fiber.
After our success up to this point we decided to move about 500 yards up
the creek. Again we took our assigned places on and in the Jeep and
rolled toward more fast and furious shooting action. Notice I didn’t say
hitting just shooting. .
Bawana was the first off the Jeep followed by Steve then myself. We
started to move like a well-oiled machine, save the stumbling over every
weed and rock.
This time the feathered rockets came up and out in my shooting lane. I
brought the gun to my shoulder and prayed, don’t let me miss, don’t let
me miss. But GOD was having none of it. I could here him ask, “Why
weren’t you in church this morning?” I wanted to say I couldn’t be in
two places at one time but thought better of it.
To cover my great shooting I picked up an empty hull and looked it over
as if something had to be a miss. I yelled at Bawana, “Winchester makes
the same kind of shells that you’re shooting.”
Again the look.
Steve started looking at his shells. “Should have brought Federals?” He
nodded.
Let’s recap, doves 5 hunters zip.
At this point the professional behind the wheel of the Jeep asked Bawana
if she might take part in the next flush. When Bawana said yes, she did
her version of the dance of an excited Cocker Spaniel, while uttering “I
can I shoot, I can I shoot.”
Bawana informed our resident driver and part time bird dog, only if a
dove gets up in front of you. I thought she might soil his shoe.
We then moved to the largest hill on our lease. Burnet County is
technically not in the hill country of Texas; however, the only flat
place on our lease is surface of the water in the stream. Again we
dismounted our faithful steed and started to walk. Bawana nodded to the
Chris, which was followed by a shriek of joy and anticipation.
We’d marched almost all the way through a stand of trees before we were
able to flush a dove, but when we did they came out in waves.
First to fire was Steve, a miss. Next it was Chris’s turn to try and
match the flying skill of a dove with the front bead of her Browning
Citori, a hit. Bawana and I followed up with two more downed birds.
Steve made a great recovery with his first dove followed by my second.
After the flurry I informed Bawana what brand of shell I was shooting.
Well, not really the brand but that my shells had shot in them and asked
if he might not like to try couple.
He must practice that look.
After we recovered all the downed birds and started to drive to the next
site you couldn’t help but hear, ARR ARR. ARR.
Score: Doves 23 Hunters 5
Our next three stops produced four more doves along with the usual
number of misses.
The late December afternoon was delightfully warm with a temperature in
the mid fifties, light breezes that touched not just the skin but the
souls of outdoorsmen everywhere, and the most beautiful blue sky that
ever covered anybody anywhere. GOD does smile on Texas.
With our pokes all but full, our shell bags almost empty, and our hearts
filled with satisfaction it was time to clean the bounty of that
fantastic afternoon’s dove hunt.
Chris climbed behind the wheel of the Jeep and a way we went. Over the
hill to Grand Mother’s house we go hitting every rock, bush, and cactus
on the entire 1000 acres.
Once we reached our camp, just enough time for a quick drink and then to
the business of cleaning the dove. I along with two of the three other
hunters were able to clean all the dove we harvested in about five
minuets. Steve asked where’s Mark. I looked around, saying as I did,
Bawana is cleaning his doves.
Steve questioned the time it was taking him to clean only two doves.
We as a group decided to investigate his method of preparing the prize
for the freezer.
As we approached, Bawana was picking each and every feather from each
dove. I couldn’t help my self, I had to inquire, “don’t they get cold
with out any feathers?”
He didn’t even look up.
Steve stated, “So this is what a naked dove looks like, some things are
best left to the imagination.”
I picked up one of his birds; much to my surprise the dove didn’t have a
single feather still attached to the bird. I didn’t know you could pluck
a bird that clean.
The small featherless birds were reminiscent of that cartoon where all
the bald chickens were wing in wing doing the can can.
Chris chimed in, “Waste not, want not.”
Fifteen minuets later the Great White Hunter had cleaned his doves. I
couldn’t help my self; I had to ask him why he kept the entire dove when
the rest of us were more than satisfied with just the dove breast.
He looked at me and said, he likes to see the entire bird on his plate.
The image of him holding an inch long drumstick was all I could handle.
I wanted to ask, wasn’t it hard to get your fingers around the wish
boon, but didn’t. However, I did ask. “Is there a lot of cholesterol in
such a large quantity of fowl?”
Back came the look.
I would love to see how Mark or Chris, whichever is in the kitchen at
the time, prepares those little naked birds.
And people ask why we hunt? All of us that hunt deer, turkey, dove,
varmint, or any other animal can tell you in an instant. We hunt because
we love the challenge of it and the people we hunt with.
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