Outdoors
GOLVA, N.D. — Pirate coursed back and forth through the bottom land of Bullion Creek. Head high, he was trying to catch the scent of the pheasants he knew were just ahead.
Tom worked the left side and I the right.¬
The creek bottom averaged roughly 50 feet wide and was about 20 feet below the surrounding flat grain fields. There were cattails where the stream bed was wet and the sides were covered with coat-tearing, spiny buffaloberry trees. Although it was only the second weekend of October, the snow was blowing and the thermometer read 19 degrees. It was cold.
Up on the flat ground, Roger Cogswell of Newton walked quietly along the edge of the wheat stubble field. On the other side of the draw was Richard Weyers from Virginia. He moseyed along the edge of the tall sunflowers that covered a quarter of a section.¬ The two of them were alert to a Pirate point. Seasoned hunters both, they knew that they needed to be ahead of the dogs and Tom and me as the pheasants tend to explode up out of the creek bed and veer toward the grain fields.¬
The big setter came to a screeching halt, his head pointed at an angle down toward the base of a clump of cattails. Slowly he stretched out his long frame, the end of his nose vacuuming in every scintilla of scent emanating from the tiny spot.¬
"Whoa," I whispered to my pointing buddy. He rolled his eyes to see me, but never turned his head. His skeleton was rock hard.¬ I could not believe that a big pheasant could be hiding in such a tiny mound.¬
The weeds exploded upward as the big, beautifully colored cock pheasant came ripping out of his hiding spot. It seemed to take him minutes to get his wings spread out and catch any air. But by the time he had taken three flaps he was a rocket streaming up out of the creek bed and heading toward the sunflowers. Unfortunately for him, he was flying about 30 yards ahead of Weyers.¬
Swinging his 16-gauge in a smooth arc, Weyers sent a load of lead after the flying bird. Pirate scrambled up the bank and headed toward the downed pheasant. Never a good retriever, Pirate will dane to at least hold the bird until you get there. Ranger, a yellow lab, came rolling on by and picked up the prize from Pirate and headed back to Tom. He stuffed the bird into his vest and I motioned Pirate back down into the creek.¬
We were on our annual pilgrimage to Golva, N.D. as guests of Vidette and Tom Schillo. They own a huge ranch right on the Montana border that marks the headwaters of Bullion Creek. A farm that¬ raises mostly sunflowers, wheat, corn and other grains, they also produce some of the best Angus beef¬ in the region.¬
The Schillos manage their ranch in a way that is beneficial to wildlife. Not only do they leave strips of grain along the sides of the creek, they are constantly planting trees and opening water holes for them. The wells they have drilled to pump up water for their cattle have big open air tanks to hold this rare commodity.
Tom invented a ramp that goes from the top of the tank down into the water at an easy angle. He wrapped the ramp in chicken wire and then put small rails across the ramp. This way the birds could jump up on the tank and walk down into the water to get a drink. It works slick in this perpetually dry area.¬
Once back in the creek, we started up again. Birds flushed wild ahead of us, perhaps annoyed at all of the noise we made in getting the first one. We could hear Dave Fryberg ahead of us as he touched off two shots. We had posted him at the end of the draw and the birds were flushing by him.¬
Over the next half hour we worked the draw. Many birds were flushed, several held to the point, and all three hunters got their pheasant limit before noon. We headed back to the ranch for lunch where we met the other folks in our group. Over a hot stew Tom Look from North Reading, Taylor Thompson from Jamaica Plain and Dan Murphy from New Hampshire regaled us with tales of shots taken and birds missed. However, they had also taken their¬ pheasant limits.¬
Tom Look had also taken three Hungarian partridge using only two shells.¬ As the covey had risen in front of a point, he swung on one bird just as another flew by as well. With the one shot he downed two birds. As that happened he swung on a third bird and downed that one as well. Quite a bit of trick shooting.¬
Over the next four days we had some terrific hunting. There were birds everywhere. The grouse numbers were down this year because of the heavy snows of the year before, but there were enough to get in some great shooting. There were also big coveys of Hungarian partridge that provided for some difficult shots. It is possible to take a limit of three birds for each species or nine birds a day. There are very few places in the country that have the bird populations of that number and variety.¬
As usual, the days were too short. We experienced some great dog work, some terrific shots and plenty of birds. Another great fall hunt.
