Doves, Sweat and Cheers
By Ed Ferner

There is a whole array of pros and cons to be considered when choosing between a morning or an evening dove hunt.  Some of the more notable differences are that for a morning hunt the birds are usually flying best within an hour after daylight.  So if you are hunting a good spot then you have got a good chance of shooting your limit quickly and getting out of the field before it gets too hot.  The down side of a morning hunt is that the initial hours are usually the best hours of the hunt and as the day wears on the shooting gets poorer as the temperature gets hotter.  The other downside of a morning hunt is it means that you are going to lose a lot of sleep if you have to do any significant amount of driving prior to dawn.

This year my hunting buddy Mike and I were going to do an evening hunt.  The upside of the evening hunt option is that as time goes by the shooting improves and the temperature gets cooler.  The trick is surviving the first couple of hours when the birds are few and the heat is suffocating.
We got into the field around 3:00 PM.  The temperature was just below the 95 degree mark.  Since there were no birds flying yet, we decided to leave the dogs in the truck, under the camper shell with the fan blowing on them, hoping that the 5 degree or so cooler temperature in there, and their inactivity, would reserve their energy for when we would need them.

We spent a miserable hour sitting in the sweltering heat shaded by a daisy bush that was barely shoulder high and sparse in foliage, at best.  During our vigil all we saw was a glimpse of a flight of three birds that whisked around behind our backs almost escaping even our notice of them.  Immediately we realized the silliness of both of us sitting facing the same direction.  Two hunters sitting back to back is an effective strategy for keeping the speed demons from coming and going before it is too late to draw on them.  All was not wasted though, for our time of sweaty contemplation had set our resolve to relocate to an area where we had seen flights continue to pass over.  We had decided on an area which appeared to be a travel lane for the birds that were being shot at by hunters along a tree line about a ¼ mile away.  On our way to our new location we got the dogs out and suddenly you could feel it, optimism was high we would be shooting birds soon.

Still en route our first flight in range came over and both of our guns opened up on them.  Jericho marked his fall well and I released him for the retrieve.  As I looked toward the area of the fall, however, I noticed that Mike's dog was already well to my bird and I concluded that maybe Mike shot the same bird I did.  With a little shouting, I called Jericho off and got him back to my side.  It turned out, however,  that the bird was indeed mine.  Mike had dropped one in a different direction but his dog  had been watching my bird at the time and went after it when he was released, much to Mike's surprise.

We continued on into the new field and set up our stools against bushes that offered a little camouflage to our positions.  The next half hour yielded a couple of more birds with Jericho making clean retrieves on both of them.  Then things quieted down a little and I decided to make a slight change in my location in order to get right under where the flights appeared to be the heaviest.  A small ditch with a row of bushes along each bank served as a great natural blind, concealing me from both directions.  The move quickly paid off as I could see a flight of five birds heading straight toward me.  I waited until I couldn't stand it anymore and I jumped up and surprised the heck out of them.  They momentarily stalled in front of me and then scattered over head.  I tracked two of them off to my left and dropped them both.  It was my first double ever.  They dropped within about 10 yards of each other and I noted the location.  As it turned out, nobody saw me shoot my double, not even my dog.  My new location was great for concealment, but it blocked Jericho's view and he was unable to mark the falls.  We jumped out of the ditch together and we each picked up a bird.

I relocated in the ditch to a spot where Jericho had a better view and soon dropped another one from this position.  Jericho had a general idea where this one dropped, but I still ended up handling him to the mark with a few whistles and casts from my position in the ditch.  Jericho was soon jumping back into the ditch with a dove in his mouth.  The action slowed again and I decided to go see how Mike was doing.

Mike was stationed along a tree-lined dry river bed that seemed to be quite a bird magnet.  There was a lot of activity, but the shots were difficult as the birds were flying over pretty high up.  As I linked up with Mike a single came at us from the field in front of us.  Our backs were to the river bed.  We emptied our barrels and my last shot seemed to have slowed him and he went into a glide, sailing over our heads and disappearing somewhere on the far side of the river bed.  Immediately I knew it was going to be a hard bird to find.  I walked the near bank and spotted the bird laying on an open patch of dirt and was thankful I could send Jericho on a blind retrieve for it instead of climbing down the steep river bank myself.  With a few whistles and casts Jericho got the bird and scrambled up the bank to my side.  As I took the bird from his mouth I was shocked to find that it was partially decayed and covered with ants.  The bird I had handled him to was one that had been shot two mornings ago.  Apparently by someone who wasn't hunting with a dog.  With no other choice, Jericho and I climbed down into the river bed and a few minutes later I found it.  That made the day's total six retrieves for Jericho and two for me.

All in all it was a good hunt.  It was the first time I have hunted my dog in 90 degree plus heat.  I had bottles of water crammed into every bit of  pocket space I had in my vest, fanny pack and shorts, but I still had to make a trip back to the truck to reload on water.  Jericho, for his part, was a man about the whole thing and didn't let the heat ruin his enjoyment of the day.  And I, for my part, did my best not to whine.