My friend Scot, a photojournalist, and I often cooperated in producing content for his outdoor sports segment of the Thursday evening news. Our professional relationship was mutually beneficial. Scot generated programming for his time slot, and I, as the local game warden, enjoyed the privilege of informing the public about wildlife conservation matters.
Pheasant stocking was part of my job and of particular interest to my video camera-toting friend who loved to chase the long-tailed birds with an elegant female English setter named Abby. Scot’s pheasant-release videos were rich in ringnecked pheasant natural history, spiced with lots of action. They often included bloopers of roosters scratching blood from my hands and arms or flogging me with a blur of wings and, not uncommonly, pooping on my uniform and hat.
While on duty, I often watched pheasant hunters pursuing the newly stocked birds. My first observation of young Abby working pheasants was pleasantly fascinating. A broad weed field rose steeply from my concealed location in a dilapidated barn, offering a ringside seat. Completely white, save for a half-black face mask, Abby seemed to float elegantly about the dense grasses.
Her progress was purposeful and guided by a highly discerning nose for birds. Years of upland hunting experience with pointing dogs enhanced my pleasure of watching this pup perform like a seasoned pro.
I cherish the memory of meeting Abby following their hunt. Her ultra-friendly spirit matched her beauty, and a seductive message of J want to be your friend flashed about her eyes. It was a love-at-first-sight experience. Her field performance was so enthralling that I requested the privilege of photographing her in action. Wow!
هذه القصة مأخوذة من طبعة Winter 2022 من The Upland Almanac.
ابدأ النسخة التجريبية المجانية من Magzter GOLD لمدة 7 أيام للوصول إلى آلاف القصص المتميزة المنسقة وأكثر من 9,000 مجلة وصحيفة.
بالفعل مشترك ? تسجيل الدخول
هذه القصة مأخوذة من طبعة Winter 2022 من The Upland Almanac.
ابدأ النسخة التجريبية المجانية من Magzter GOLD لمدة 7 أيام للوصول إلى آلاف القصص المتميزة المنسقة وأكثر من 9,000 مجلة وصحيفة.
بالفعل مشترك? تسجيل الدخول
Tail feathers - STANDARDS AND PRACTICES
\"An armed society is a polite society,\" the NRA says in one of its dicta, cribbed from Robert A. Heinlein, a 20th-century American science fiction writer.
Day's End - IN PRAISE OF FENCEROWS
Driving north along the Hudson River, I gazed at a pastoral autumn scene: sere fields of faded yellow harvested corn, stubbly and broken amongst the clods of black earth, almost smooth from my vantage point. Spiky brown veins of wild growth marked barriers between plots. Occasionally, the gray bones of a mature oak rose among the brown shrubs to stand over the yellow fields. A sentry, keeping silent watch as white frost crystals slowly melted into invisibility.
That Time of Year Again
Without doubt. The most idyllic form of hunting in Ohio is seeking the woodcock. - Merrill Gilfallan, Moods of the Ohio Moons: An Outdoorsman's Almanac (1991)
I Don't Wanna'!
I'm an old hand at being retired, though - have been practicing for 25 years.
Hunting the Huns: Alberta's Big Sky Country
The prairies of southern Alberta are vast, beautiful and full of prime bird habitat. Crop fields are interspersed with abandoned farms, rolling hills are intersected by coulees and creek beds, and Hungarian partridge and sharptailed grouse occupy some of the best and most picturesque habitat on the continent.
Side Dish - End of Season
Sporting trips are not only about sport, as many other experiences are discovered alongside. And my trip to Lakewood Camps in Maine was certainly just that.
AN EXTENDED STAY
There is no reason to leave Michigan in the fall unless the opportunity of a cast and blast adventure at a historic sporting lodge in Maine comes calling.
KEEP IT HANDY
If you think shooting a ruffed grouse on the wing with a shotgun is tough, try shooting one in flight with a still camera.
A Longtime Love Affair
It's possible to hunt your favorite birds in a lot of different places, I suppose, but I don't do that.
Profile of an Artist: Harley Bartlett
Harley Bartlett was born in 1959 near Pittsburg, Pennsylvania. However, having lived in Rhode Island for most of his life he considers himself a Rhode Islander.
