Wild Pacific Northwest Pheasant

December 3, 2016

When I was growing up my uncle owned a 10,000 acre wheat farm in central Montana.  On the farm Dad and I had the extremely unique opportunity to hunt wild roosters on our "own" private property. We purchased, trained, and loved a wonderful black lab named Rocky just for the task, and we had some amazing pheasant hunts. The farm has long since been sold, and this pristine hunting experience is but a distant memory.  Since then I have been blessed to make three trips to the Dakotas, where the birds are plentiful and shooting a limit by lunch is rarely a problem.  But I know that for the average public land hunter, these opportunities don't exist.  A wild, public land rooster just about anywhere is something special, something to be treasured.

A few months ago I got to know Parker and his Brittany, Houston.  Parker grew up here and loves to hunt for the local pheasant and quail.  Houston is well trained, and really has the game figured out - especially for quail.  This was my third trip out with them this fall.  The first trip was in a rainstorm, but we still managed  few quail, which were a first for me!  A few weeks later we made a trip focused more on pheasant.  We hunted hard, and didn't see our first pheasants until early afternoon, but I was fortunate enough to bag a couple roosters at the end of the day.

Parker and Houston working the other side of the draw we found the birds in.

Parker called me earlier this week and wanted to know if I wanted to go out on Saturday.  Of course I did!  We met up in the early morning darkness and hatched a plan.  We would be hunting public land, so I knew that any birds would be icing on the cake.  The opportunity to carry a shotgun following a handsome pointer on a brisk December day would likely have to be enough.

Thick cover surrounded by planted fields - wonderful pheasant habitat!

As we crossed the open farmland to the patch of thick cover, Houston bumped a covey of five jumpy huns.  They were the first birds I'd ever seen Houston bump - these birds had been hunted before!  We got to a draw where Parker has had some luck with pheasants and laid out our plan. We were successful in pushing out four hen pheasants, but no roosters.  We then pushed a long drainage, pushing only one other hen.  It had been over three hours, and the hunters and dog were already tired.

Finally, we jumped a rooster!  It was a ways away from Houston, and it took us by surprise.  No shot was possible, but we marked where it landed, and decided to follow it.  After some time we had pretty much given up on the rooster.  I was taking a picture of an old pheasant track in the dirt, and I heard the rooster flush in front of me.  In one movement I dropped my camera, shouldered my gun, and harvested the pheasant.  It was pretty special.  I don't take a prize like this lightly.  A wild, public land pheasant in Washington State is a trophy to be remembered!

A beautiful public land, wild pheasant - a true trophy in my book.

The pheasant track I was taking a picture of when the rooster jumped.

The rest of the morning was eventful.  We jumped a couple coveys of quail, and I was fortunate enough to be shooting well, and harvested two beautiful male California Quail.

My third ever California Quail.  Another beautiful, special bird!

 As we neared the end of the draw, just after Houston pointed another hen pheasant, he pointed something in the middle of a small, thick patch of tulies.  It was the perfect spot to flush a rooster at the end of the day.  Parker went into the thicket to flush the bird, while I prepared myself for a shot on the ridge.  Parker got within three feet of Houston, but the bird never flushed, Houston never moved, and Parker couldn't even see him.  Since I knew right where Houston was, we switched.  I went in and could see Houston.  He was staunch on point with something right in front of him.  I gently pulled the tulies away to see, and then jumped when my hand came within inches of quills.  Porcupine!  I jumped, which may have startled the porky.  We yelled at Houston to get away, but he still managed to get 15-20 quills in his chin and right paw.  Luckily the quills came out easily with a Leatherman, and I spoke with Parker this morning, and Houston is doing fine.

In the end, I think we walked around eight miles for three birds.  Some say it isn't worth it - some might say we are crazy - but I loved every second of it.  I am so grateful that I live in a state, that I live in a country, where I can hunt public land.  It was a great day indeed!