Last year at the Harrisville Hunter's Banquet, I was fortunate enough to win two different three bird pheasant hunts at a pair of farms in Central Wisconsin. We used the first of the two to visit Lone Oak Pheasant Preserve in the Montello/Princeton area on a warm 41 degree Tuesday afternoon in mid-December. We couldn't have gotten a better day. We were scheduled to depart the Vater House at 6 am, but apparently both James and Bob were up at 4 am, twiddling thumbs in anticipation of the big hunt. After a short stop at the Hunter's Pit Stop in Fond du Lac (West Side Kwik Trip) for a hot chocolate and cappuccino we continued our westward trek. We figured we were in for a good day when we spotted a large rooster flying across Highway 23 in Ripon but were pretty sure when we spotted four roosters just driving up the driveway to Lone Oak. Our hosts, the Polcyn's were there to meet us and introduced us to our guide for the day, Reba, a German Short Haired Pointer. After filling out some paperwork and getting a crash course in controlling the dog, we set out. We hadn't walked fifty yards when a group of ten pheasants took off from the woodline to our right and crossed some fields. We figured the day was going to be great.
In our first patch of long grass, the dog was on point almost immediately, and as we flushed the pheasant I launched the first shell of the day. The miss wasn't nearly as disappointing as finding out the gun had broken its slide. It's an old gun that Bob's been fixing up for me to return to my dad. It was used by my grandfather for years and is making its way down the family tree. Fortunately, we were still close to the car so I doubled back and grabbed the semi-automatic 12 guage I had brought as backup. We finished the strip, flushed two more birds, shot several more times and were still empty handed after 30 minutes.
We found out when we arrived that we were the only ones scheduled for the day so rather than being limited to a certain section of the farm, the Polcyn's told us we could go wherever we wanted and be selective. Traditionally, they put out about 50% hens and 50% roosters for their hunters, but with the permission granted to be a little choosy, our goal was all roosters. We had purchased the ability to shoot six birds and had hoped to get a couple of extras as well.
We headed across the next field and unfortunately, the dog was working a little too far out ahead of us, flushing a few birds just too far out of range. The whistle training I had been given worked sometimes and the shock collar worked somewhat but I had the feeling that the dog was just crazy with the "feather flu" and it was going to be hard to control.
Finally, as we pushed a field towards the road, the dog locked on point and we were close enough to get in range before the bird flushed. Bang, Bang, Bang. Drop. I had the first pheasant of the day, a nice rooster with great color. Into the game bag it went and onward we went to more birds. A few minutes later, the dog locked up again on point and a second rooster fell to the semi-automatic Savage 12 guage shotgun. The "fun" thing about semis is the rapid fire, as many times as you pull the trigger, a shell comes out. I started the day with 19 shells and was down to my last five with a bird to go for me. Dad started the day with 25 shells and was down to about 15 with no birds in the bag yet. Was this that hard we wondered? Trust me, Dad would heat up later.
We had let several hens fly away that morning in our selectivity and I was wondering if we'd even get to six birds before we ran out of shells. We hunted a large expanse of grass, scrubs and corn strips several times and in that time Dad bagged his first and second pheasants, one a dark, dark purplish green bird. We were down to about ten total shells and had only four birds. We went back through some of the areas we had already hit and a new area along the driveway into the farm. The dog remained a little troublesome and hard to control but old eagle eye Dad was now on the money, dropping birds with only one shot. Soon we each had our three birds each and we still had one side of the driveway to go. With five shells remaining between the two of us, we pushed out the last bit of thicket, with dad dropping two more birds giving us eight on the day, all roosters.
Back at the farmhouse, our host took the dog back, snapped the photos you see here and gave us some tips on cleaning the birds. We paid for our hunt and started filleting some pheasants. A few minutes later he returned and asked how the dog had been. We said it seemed a little excited and that James had had too use the whistle a lot. He apologized, telling us that apparently while we were hunting the shock collar batteries had gone dead. If we'd have been able to zap the dog a few times, it would have worked a lot closer to us. That explained a lot to me since I was trying to shock the livin' bijeeezus out the darn thing and it just wouldn't return. Well that's something to look forward to the next time we said as our experience was still a great one. We had walked for over four hours and covered many, many miles. We had shot 40 shells and had left with eight birds. We're pretty sure we'd like to make this an annual event.
