Rooster!

My love of pheasant hunting started early

My writing and videos have focused on big game hunting and handgun self-defense shooting but my favorite hunt is for pheasant with a good bird dog and friends or family. This started not long after 1966 when I got my first hunting license. By about 12 years old I was addicted to pheasant hunting! If asked about my favorite holiday my answer was always “opening day of pheasant season!”

Photo is from about 1970, opening day of pheasant season on Ryer Island in the Sacramento River Delta. I’m the kid on the upper right with my 20 gauge double, Dad is kneeling on the lower right. I remember some of the guys, most of them are gone now including my lifelong friend Tom who’s in the front with the striped shirt and glasses.

Opening day on Ryer Island was awesome. Dad and I would drive there in his Ford pickup. We’d meet the other hunters and hang out in the steel shed waiting for the fog to lift. Generally we’d be hunting by 8:00 or so. The best days had gorgeous sunny weather and crisp fall temps. We’d often have a dozen or so hunters, all friends, family and some business associates. Mostly we hunted the milo fields which had been harvested - leaving stalks just high enough to bruise the heck out of shins - but also providing great cover for the pheasants! These were wild birds, and usually there were so many of them. The limit was two birds and we’d hunt until everyone had two birds.

Rarely did we have a dog. We’d line up abreast and walk the fields. Breaks had been mowed in the fields every couple of hundred yards and we’d station a few guys there as holders - usually the older gents. Dad and I loved to walk. The line would start moving forward, everyone spaced a few yards apart. Not many birds would flush mid-field, some held tight and erupted into flight with the loud cackling and wingbeats only a few feet in front, or sometimes behind the walkers. As my friend Tom and I grew into our teens we turned into the quickest shooters, each of us with double barrel 20 gauge Ithaca shotguns made by SKB. I remember once a bird got up behind us. Tom and I were in the middle of the line. We each heard the bird come up behind us, saw that it was a rooster and fired. It dropped - then we looked at each other in amazement as we’d fired at exactly the same time and didn’t know the other had shot.

When the line approached the break, where the holders were stationed, the birds running ahead of us would start running back and forth, to the break, then back towards the walkers. It got really intense the last 20 or 30 yards… Then they’d start flushing. Sometimes in ones and twos, sometimes a flurry of wingbeats and a dozen or more birds would spring into the air accompanied by calls of “hen” or “rooster” from the hunters. We were pretty good at only shooting roosters.

About noon or so we’d head back to the metal “barn” for lunch. It was glorious! Hot French bread with just a slab of steak - seasoned with a lot of garlic and black pepper… Steak sandwiches, so simple and so good. There’d also be a huge salad and then dessert - homemade cookies from my mother! She made great cookies. Tom and I as the youngest were quite fond of the steak sandwiches… Protein for strong and growing teenagers.

My Marine Corps service interfered with pheasant hunting, but when I could I’d make it home for either opening day or Thanksgiving and hunt with Dad. My attendance became more sporadic as I spent time overseas or on the east coast. Sometimes I’d visit my folks and Dad would host me at Hastings Island which had become his pheasant club. Usually we’d hunt with a friend of his who would bring a dog. This was when I got introduced to hunting with a good dog, a dog bred and trained for upland bird hunting. Bob loved hunting with his vizsla dog “Ace” - and Ace was a wonderful hunter. Well trained, Ace would bring the fallen bird back to Bob every time, no matter which of us shot it. Dad had a variety of shotguns at his home and I’d just pick one of them for the hunt. We did well there.

Time passed… After the Marines I found myself in Washington State in a law enforcement career. Trips to hunt with Dad became less frequent. Dad hunted into his 80’s and in time gave up his beloved role of walking at Ryer Island and became a holder. That was good for the group because he was an excellent wing shot and dropped many pheasants. My friend Tom grew up to manage the farming on Ryer Island and he added to the faltering wild population of pheasants by releasing raised birds into the milo fields a day or two before the hunt.

Dad on the left and his friend Don hunting pheasants on Ryer in their 70’s or early 80’s. Both were superb shooters.

In Washington I’d hunt public land for pheasant and also became a member of the Cooke Canyon hunt club - where I introduced my youngest son to pheasant hunting. He used the same 20 gauge Ithaca/SKB double I’d first used in the 1970’s. That well built gun is still in excellent condition. In due time I ended up with my father’s guns. He gave me his Beretta A390, which turned out to be one heck of a pheasant gun. I shoot it better than any other shotgun, and it was light enough to carry into the hills for chukar too. Then I hunted with the 12 gauge Browning Citori - entirely too fancy for my tastes, and heavy, but it shot well. Later I took up hunting with a 90 year old Remington 32 using the skeet barrels and Bismuth shot. My son latched onto a 28 gauge CZ double which is so very light and easy handling. Yes, the 28 gauge is absolutely enough for pheasants, something I’d learned nearly 60 years ago.

We had two dogs during those Washington years, both German Wirehaired Pointers. The first was ours only to provide him a retirement home. Clark had been a national champion and early in life he’d undergone hunt training. The first time I took him afield he pointed hard and then looked at me as if to ask “Is this what we’re doing?” That dog taught me so much about hunting for pheasant, chukar, quail and even grouse.

Thanking Clark for yet another great retrieve. That dog was so focused on his hunt, so intense!

When he passed, as they always do, Maverick found us. He’s a rescue dog, his first family gave up on him when he was young. He just needed some time, patience and love then took to hunting naturally. Eventually I enlisted help from Cooke Canyon to train him for bird hunting and his skills improved. He’s become a very good, incredibly strong, hunting dog.

Young Maverick with his first rooster. The first of many!

Thanking Maverick for a terrific hunt with my son John, who also took the photo.

I started hunting pheasants nearly 60 years ago and it’s still my favorite. For me, nothing beats the rush of a pheasant flushing. I just need to find some places here in Oklahoma or perhaps in states just north of here to hunt those wonderful birds again.

I’m a lifelong hunter, a law enforcement and NRA handgun and rifle instructor, a USMC veteran and a retired police officer with 12 years of SWAT experience. Catch my firearms and ammunition videos on Ultimate Reloader on Rumble and YouTube. Photos in this article are a combination of mine and those taken by Ultimate Reloader.

Shoot well, Guy Miner