“2010 Minnesota Pheasant Hunting Over!”

A beautiful day and a great year spent hunting with friends.

FML Outdoors picture of the Day

(From Left to Right): FML Outdoors Editor Scott Nelson, Brad Finstad — Chief author and negotiator of the bill to authorize the building of Minnesota Twins ballpark — Target Field, and U.S. Congressman Erik Paulsen

Le Sueur, MN

Drumming counts increased 44-percent over 2008 numbers. Last years average drum count was 1.4. This year the state average is a staggering 2.4!

When I was 14, my dad gave me a single-shot 410. We’d travel north to Central Minnesota’s, Mille Lacs Wildlife Management Area just south of Lake Mille Lacs, hunting Grouse around clearcut logged fields and clover lined hunting trails.

Put into Contrast

There was a light dusting of snow over large piles of logged trees. The air was crisp and the grass frozen. A deep breath would fill your lungs with energy and your nose with natural pine sent.

My dad and his buddy Duane drove up early, so to get a good spot. I remember laying in the back seat listening to the car radio playing that song — the same song. The one I’d hear when leaving early to go duck or deer hunting.

It sounded like this: “Good-morning, Good-morning. Good morning to you.”

The smell of car coffee permeates my clothes, but would soon be replaced with the smell of gunpowder. I reached into the trunk to find my hunting boots. I always hated this part…. Why is it—when tying boots your hands hurt and ache from pulling on the boot laces?

Dressed in blaze orange gear, I’d anticipate the sounds of the hunt. I’d hear the rustling of shot gun shells and the click action of my dad’s 12-gauge shotgun being loaded. The dome light provided illumination, as the open car door would ding— always remembering to close the door quietly, so not to alert any birds close by.

I put my one shell into the chamber and tried snapping the breach closed. Either the gun was so new or my 14 year-old arms couldn’t snap it shut, so I’d use my knee as leverage. “Clunk!” my gun was loaded and I was ready.

We zig-zagged through the woods, following the yellow signs marked, WMA, Open to Public Hunting. After spending most of the morning walking without seeing a bird, we proceeded to head back to the car. As we approached a clearing Duane took the right, while I walked the left side of an old wood pile. All of a sudden, I heard the drum and explosive sounds of a grouse escaping to flight. I saw the flash of the bird and followed with my gun, “Boom!“ went my 410.

Duane also shot at the same time. He yells, “I got it!” I didn’t know fore sure whether I had hit it or not? Asking if I had shot, my dad said, “Maybe Scott got this one?” There was know way to tell for sure; or so I thought!

Later that night, my dad receives a call from Duane. Feeling really bad, he goes on to describe a large BB found while cleaning the bird — Only one very large BB from a 410 shotgun shell!

Well, it turns out that it was my grouse and my first bird I had ever shot! Duane returned the Grouse frozen and congratulated me on a fine shot.

Painting by Greg Alexander, “Clearcut Opportunity – Ruffled Grouse”

Willow Creek Pheasants

It was -10 degrees with white confetti falling all day

It was Sunday, December 7, 2008. Matt and I agreed to meet at Willow Creek Kennels in Little Falls, MN.

As planned, I prepared to leave early before the snow started. The radio that morning was playing for travelers like me — warning of the hazardous road conditions that lay ahead.

By the time I reached Little Fall, MN the visibility was down to one-quarter mile. (My phone rings) It was Matt calling to see where I am. I was within 45-minutes of reaching our destination. Matt communicated he wasn’t too far behind.

Willow Creek Kennels is where Abby received her training four years ago. Chad and Jodi Hines, owners of WCK, is a husband and wife team. They are wonderful people and do a excellent job training and exposing young dogs to hunting.
They are in the process of expanding their facilities by adding a new building with more kennels and a cleaning area for birds. A total of 40 indoor/outdoor runs, office, banquet/indoor training room, pro shop, dogie fitness center and bathrooms.

The kennel runs large. About 4′ x 8′ on the inside and 4′ X 10′ on the outside. They’ve even taken the time to create walls between kennels, so to create a “den-like” effect for the dogs. With heated floors – what dog could ask for anything more!

They’ve also been working on managing the land and creating a hunting preserve. I’ve never hunted a preserve, but had always said, “I’m going there one of these days!”

What drove me to my decision to go this Sunday was simply, I’m sick and tired of all the Wildlife Management Areas looking like run-ways for dogs and their hunters. Every Management area I pull into has heavy traffic signs. Obviously someone had just been there — most likely 30-minutes prior.

Snow wasn’t the only thing flying that day!

The Pheasant Dance

It didn’t take long to see our first pheasant. As we pulled into the parking-lot. There stood a pheasant near the old farm house.

We loaded our guns and prepared our hands and feet for the sub-zero temperatures. I put Abby’s in her vest to protect her from weeds and hopefully keep her warm. Remember, it’s damn cold outside!

We are hunting a 40-acre patch with 12 birds released the day before. We followed a trail to the back side of the field and proceeded to walk inward. No sooner did we enter the weeds— Matt calls, “Rooster!”

Boom! A pheasant falls to the ground. “That’s ONE!” I yelled out.

The day was like a dance that never would end. We walked and zig-zaged through the weeds, food plots and spruce trees. As the snow continued to fall— so did the pheasants. With a cackle here…and a cackle there…our shots hang out like church bells.

All totaled— we lost 3 and took home 9! Against all the weatherman’s predictions, it turned out to be— not so bad of a day after all!

It was a picture perfect day! We had fresh snow on the ground as it continued to season us all afternoon.

We started near our home, where I knew there would be at least one bird— if not more. As long as the area had not been hunted too badly, we should have some good action!

It’s a small piece of Wildlife Management Area, just west of town. I’ve hunted this piece of property for a number of years. Although, the area seem to be getting smaller. The Minnesota DNR has built a number of buildings on the property and have cut the area in half. There are No Hunting signs where I use to pass shoot geese and doves during the early season hunts. But It’s still good and not many hunters know about it.

As we pulled up to where I like to walk, we could see six pheasant standing outside the fence line, silhouetted against the snow and black chisel plow. We watched them until they ducked into the weeds. It was time to load-up and go-get-some!

By the time we got to where we saw the pheasants, they had dispersed and moved further away!

Drawing closer to the end of the field, I yelled over to Grandpa, “Abby’s getting birdie!” I could see her tail wagging like crazy and she was obviously on a mission. Grandpa lost Abby in the tail grass and didn’t realize that she was heading for the road. All of a sudden — I heard that all to familiar sound — And there he was, “Rooster!” I called out. But it was too far out for Grandpa to shoot.

Standing on the gravel road now. “Let’s finish this side and head towards the truck,” I said. No sooner did I take two steps— Abby flushes another rooster. POW! With one graceful swing and pull of the trigger, Grandpa has himself a pheasant!

We didn’t see any other birds that day, but we had a great time and most importantly, his Granddaughter Madeline was there to see it all happen. A Grand day it was!

Two Hunters, Two Pheasaants

A client of MediaPro Soup, Mike Kasbohm, President of Spectech, Inc. and inventor of the Magnet Gun Caddy and I decided to work-in a day of hunting pheasants north of Minneapolis, MN.

I’ve seen numerous birds driving back from the cabin and experienced good hunting last fall. So, I didn’t hesitate to give Mike a call. We open our schedules and made our plans for Tuesday morning; 8:00 a.m. sharp!

Two Hunters

Mike’s two German Pointers, and my dog Abby (GWP) are in their kennel and ready to go! We loaded Mikes truck and set-off for a day of hunting pheasants.

As we merge single-file into traffic like ants, our speed and actions seem to out-pace the intentions of the other drivers. I can see in the reflection of their eyes — the glow of orange passing by. I feel like a young school kid playing hooky.

Opening the map, we navigated to the closest Wildlife Management Area. It was a large pond with cattails bordering the shore. I’m all too familiar with the obstacles that lay ahead of us. We loaded our guns and prepared the dogs. We didn’t hesitate to submerse ourselves into the thick cattails.

As we pushed the edge of the swamp, Mike walked the right side and I walked the left. I could see through the ice; we had three good inches. Still green, preserved motionless, stood Lilly Pads under a sea of black ice.

Two Birds

We pushed through the cattails, just as we neared the end, I could hear the cackle of a rooster ahead. Mike’s dog was on it’s tail or should I say, “tail-feathers.” All of a sudden — it jettisoned up into the air, flying right towards Mike. With one shot the pheasant fell to the ground. “Nice shot Mike!” I called out.

I couldn’t believe it! Of all the paths that rooster could gone he went right towards Mike. Some guys have all the luck!

We made our way to the back-side of the swamp, where I could see standing corn. It turned out to be a little patch with a very large prairie behind it. We didn’t find any pheasants in the corn, but there was definite signs. I could see pheasant tracks ghosted the light snow from earlier that morning.

Last weekend, I shot six birds, but only recovered three. This time, I upgraded my shells to Double BB. Mike was on my left and as Abby and I moved forward. I heard the flush of a pheasant — then Mike’s shot. Ahead of me about 100-feet flew a large rooster. He was flying perpendicular to me and heading toward the thick swamp. I couldn’t let this one go without a try. So I swung and — BOOM! Down he came!

How far did you lead him? “Five feet,” I said.

Both Mike and I laughed. Mike asked, “How the hell did you hit that one?” Laughing still, I said “Double BB!’ ‘Now that’s what I call — reach out and touch someone!” Abby retrieved the pheasant and I praised her for a job well done. Two shells, Two pheasants!

Back at the truck, Mike and I are still laughing, Mike ask, “how far did you lead him?” “Five feet,” I said.

We both had two great shots and two wonderful adult roosters to show for our efforts. We simply have (two) much fun!