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By Gregory Bayer, Quail Point Kennels
When fortune smiles on us, a pheasant hunt is over almost before it began.
Something we have been looking forward to for a year (sadly) finally arrives
and, BANG, it’s over. Or in this case, BANG, BANG, BANG and it’s over.
South Dakota was the second stop on my late-October, 10-day upland bird-
hunting expedition. Stop number one was Wisconsin where I managed to
time the woodcock migration perfectly, and witness first-hand that the
grouse cycle is swinging upward.
With a weary drive from Atlanta and four days of ruff and doodle hunting
behind me, I loaded my beat-up, motley crew of Brittanys, English setters
and lone English pointer (six hounds in all) at four in the morning. Eight hours
of highway lay between us and Castlewood, SD, home of Big Sioux Pheasant
Hunts. But I don’t mind long hauls when a bird hunt waits at the other end,
and the down time was good for weary legs (mine and the dogs’), while the
anticipation of my first ring-necked hunt in a year kept me conscious.
I rolled into Castlewood right at noon -- not ideal considering that’s also when
shooting legally begins during the first week of the season. But the roosters
could wait while I chatted with owner Jim Kiihl and took in the tour of his
3,000 acres -- about 1,000 of which are huntable. Jerry’s mantra is “The
best pheasant hunt in the Midwest at the lowest possible price,” and as we
bounced around in his pickup, I could see why he’d make such a claim. As he
introduced me to the draws, food plots, CRP and willow patches along the Big
Sioux River where thousands of pheasants take up residence, I stopped
worrying about burning daylight … certainly I’d only need a couple hours to fill
my vest. And he takes care of the price promise by charging only $100 a day
for unguided hunters and $150 for guided hunters.
As you could probably guess, Jerry is a farmer by trade; he and his father
grow soybeans, corn and alfalfa. He launched Big Sioux Pheasant Hunts about
six years ago to supplement his income and do something he truly enjoys.
Jerry doesn’t carry a gun while guiding clients (who typically hail from MN,
WI, KS or OK) and like many Dakotans he bypasses flash for reliability and
utility where bird dogs are concerned. His two yellow Labrador retrievers
and Labrador/golden retriever cross absolutely love their jobs, and the
clients with whom I spoke praised them highly. I run pointing dogs
exclusively, but Jerry and I still managed to get along famously (hunting
behind retrievers is the only fault I could find in Jerry).
3:30 found the sun falling in the western sky, and me putting beepers on
dogs at the day’s first covert. I’d chosen to open up with Chase, my eldest
Brittany, and two English setters, Nutmeg and Maggey. I know from
experience that releasing three dogs at once into birdy cover can turn a
field of dreams into an onslaught of obscenities. But these dogs were
slowed by several days of pounding aspen for grouse, which would discourage
them from hunting the horizon and force them to perform their work
somewhere between outer shotgun range and boot polisher. In pheasantdom
I like my hounds to work within shooting range because while I will not send a
charge after a bumped bobwhite or woodcock, I will hammer an impolite,
flighty, mouthy rooster. Call it payback for all their out-of-range flushes and
post-hit, track-and-field escapades. Yes, I hold a grudge, as do my dogs.
Within five minutes of freeing the hounds, veteran Chase stopped and
stretched her neck in the direction of some cattails that lined the dirt
road. Experience told me to check the road for traffic before flushing the
bird, which turned out to be a wise decision because the rooster died
directly over the gravel and came to rest in a plume of reddish dust. I don’t
remember which dog retrieved that bird, but I certainly didn’t want to
return home with the memory of a dog’s work interrupted by a grain truck.
Twenty-five minutes after stuffing the season’s first ring-neck into my
vest, I noticed Chase honoring Nutmeg in the field’s top-left corner, where
the cover took a sharp turn to the right. Both dogs were well out in the
field, but they faced a stiff wind. I suspect Chase had a snoot full of scent
too, because she’s not the most reliable backer; she prefers leading over
following. As I walked past Nutmeg and fingered the over/under’s safety, a
rooster noisily launched himself from the cover and flew into my string of
number fours. At the report, a second rooster challenged by questionable
shooting prowess, and died for his efforts. My first Big Sioux hunting
adventure had spanned just 30 minutes and three Fiocchi Golden Pheasant
loads.
Embarrassed by the previous day’s performance, the pheasants regrouped
and posed a greater challenge on day two. Fellow Brittany enthusiast George
Goes, who has been hunting game birds for longer than I’ve been alive,
arrived at noon from central Wisconsin. At the first covert -- a section of
shin-to-knee-high grass featuring a stock pond, dry creek bed and a couple of
willow patches -- we managed three cocks in the first three hours. George’s
was neatly shot over, and retrieved by, his female Brittany, Daisy. I was
hunting young Maggey, a pretty white-and-black setter. My first bird was
bumped by Maggey, but as it sailed over the stock pond I managed a
debilitating hit. Landing in the cattails on the water’s far side, Maggey
couldn’t locate the bird and resumed hunting healthier fare. So we brought
in Daisy who quickly dug out the wing-shot prey and brought it to hand. Just a
few minutes later, I bagged my second bird that was lounging in a food plot.
I then switched dogs, opting for Brittanys Cricket and Buster, and for the
next two hours we hunted without pulling the trigger; not for lack of pointed
birds, but because I didn’t want to limit out too soon (George and I do not
share limits).
After watering ourselves and the hounds, we headed to the day’s second
covert, which happened to be the spot that yielded a quick limit the night
before. Jerry had plenty of other land for us to hunt, but I wanted to
George to see this honey hole. Plus we only had an hour till dusk.
With one bird to go and the clock ticking, I released The A Team -- Chase
and Nutmeg -- with one command, “Find me a rooster.” To George’s
amazement, or dread because he’ll never hear the end of it, "Hannibal" and
"Murdock" (certainly you remember these great 70's TV characters)
skidded to a halt about 50 yards from the truck. Quickly loading both
barrels and snapping them shut, I efficiently dispatched my third and final
cock. I retired the over & under and handled the dogs while George
attempted to fill out his bag. However, most of the points produced brown
birds, while the colorful gender performed raucous, quick escapes.
Truthfully, George also should have harvested a limit, but I’ll never complain
about a hunt that sees me out-shoot my partner.
I hunted Big Sioux Pheasant Hunts early in the season, but Jim feels later is
greater; Thanksgiving to season close being the best. With the crops
harvested and snow covering the ground, the birds are bunched up and even
easier to find, plus your dogs last longer.
Big Sioux Pheasant Hunts is approximately 90 miles north of Sioux Falls, SD,
or 16 miles south of Watertown, where plenty of lodging and dining are
available. Contact Jerry at 605-793-2689 or jkiihl@itctel.com. You may
also visit his Web site at:
www.bigsiouxpheasanthunts.com.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Greg Bayer is co-owner of Quail Point Kennels in Georgia. QPK breeds and
trains high-quality English Setters and Brittanys for field trialers and
hunters. QPK dogs are found across the country, including Georgia, Alabama,
Florida, Missouri, South Carolina, Idaho, Indiana, Wisconsin and Connecticut.
Greg is a long-time birddog fanatic who has followed pointing breeds all over
the US and Canada. Contact Greg at 678-773-5667 or
greg@quailpointkennels.com.
following:
Taylorsville, GA
Canton, GA
info@Quailpointkennels.com
Chris Kahlan 770-378-2407
Greg Bayer 678-773-5667