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Stories?
Like the time we went after Huns and Pheasants with my Bro-in-law outside of Boise?
We stopped at this little farm that had some corn stubble on one side of the house, and a beet field on the other.
PRIME country for a ring-neck.
As we pull in the driveway an old codger steps out of the EQ shed and BiL asks if he'd mind letting us make a pass or two to see if we can scare up a rooster or two?
Spying my BiL's Weimaraners in the back of the pickup, he says "sure, if you wouldn't mind me tagging along. My old lab died last year and the new pup won't be here for another coupla months."
So Rollo, (the BiL) invites him to hunt over the Weims,... "No problem, we'd love to have ya along!"
So codger heads back into the shed and comes walking back out with an ancient single shot 16 ga with a barrel about a mile long, that I swear was made for geese, with two shells in one hand.
Not being the impolite types, we tried hard not to snicker at the old dude. He was nice enough to let us hunt his land after all.
After a brief explanation from the codger about where the birds usually hold around there, we set up along this fence in a line and start out walking the stubble, and not 20 yards in Rollo's b*tch comes up on point, and we set up for the flush. The codger stands back and off to one side a ways.
One of the guys flushes the bird and at least three guns report; Bam-Bam-Bam before the bird even levels off.
But the only feathers in the air are still attached to the bird.
Nobody hit and the bird is headed right across codger's path. But he doesn't shoot, and lets the bird get by him! Just as Rollo is about to say somethin' codger raises that ol' single shot and plows that bird from behind. Clean kill with a butt/spine shot.
No ruined meat on that bird!
That same scenario was repeated about 5 minutes later, and the old man bid us good bye. He with two birds and us still empty handed, with about 30 acres left to hunt. The old man said he'd better get started on dressing them birds so his wife could get the fixins ready by supper. He thanked us for the use of the dogs and the flushes, and suggested we all try to be a little more patient. Then pointed us towards where he always saw birds, and told us to help ourselves, there was plenty enough for all of us, he was just sure of it.
But in truth, he looked rather skeptical about whether or not we were gonna hit 'em.
The Idaho limit was 4 birds per day each that year, but we left that old man's place with two apiece, after we settled down and used "a little patience."
And I'll bet there was a good 10 acres we never set foot on.
We wanted to make sure codger had a few left to shoot.
I can't hardly stand to be in the same room with my ex, but the ex BiL is a peach of a guy that I still talk to about once every couple of years.
And almost every time we talk, the story of the codger and his "patience' gets talked about.
Rollo named his next Weimaraner pup, "Patience."
Good times, good friends and great hunts.
Last Edited:
. Ive slowed down in my life and no longer feel the need to fill the air with flak to take down any upland game.
