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11-12-24 REELLIFE digital - Flipbook - Page 34


The bird flushed on its
own and farther down
the berm. We continued,
trying to keep ahead of
the now (tired) Murphy.
Reaching the end of the
property, we turned around
and headed back. Another
rooster flushed up as we
worked our way back and
once again our aim was not
good. I will be the first to
admit, this hunting stuff is
addicting - and challenging.
It’s like fly fishing and trying
to land your fly in a specific
spot. It takes practice. The
fact is, there are all kinds of
parallels between hunting
and fishing, including many
of the standard fishing
clichés we all know and
love. “can’t catch em if
your line isn’t in the water”
translates to “can’t shot
them if you aren’t hunting
em”. I also couldn’t help but
notice the “feast or famine”
aspect. Some fields we’d
get nothing, others a few,
and this spot – wow, lots of
action!
The sun was getting lower,
and it was time to go.
One last stretch of about
a hundred yards of marsh
left. Murphy, rutting in the
marsh, getting birdy on
us, and I’m ready. Will it be
one last chance before the
end of my pheasant trip?
Suddenly, Murphy pushes
forward and the cattails
explode with the sound of
wings flapping. The rooster
is coming toward me as
I’m ahead of Murphy. I have
the perfect location and
ample time to raise my gun
to my shoulder. The bird
is now just slightly below
me and tracking away.
It’s the perfect deflection
shot of about 20 yards. I
sight and pull the trigger
of my 12-gauge Berretta
Outlander. The bird drops in
flight to the marsh below.
Matt and I simultaneously
let out an excited yell and
then Matt tells me “Keep
an eye where he landed,
he may only be wounded
and may be running”. Hey,
that wasn’t in the program!
I’m super excited about
getting my first rooster
and now I may not actually
get to have him. No way!
We secure our guns and
descend into the cattails
and start looking for my
bird. Murphy is one step
ahead of us though and
quickly has the dead
rooster firmly in his grip.
The pheasant is a real
beauty, with a 19" tail (Matt
told me that was a good
sized bird).
Matt and I sit down and
enjoy the moment. A son’s
joy at having guided his
father to his first pheasant,
and my joy at having shot
my first pheasant are
framed by the sinking
sun, bathing us in a
sunset never to leave our
memories.
The day is complete and
the weekend a success
beyond measure. It’s
my first pheasant and a
father and son bonding
experience that is what life
is all about.
Later, Matt showed me
how to skin and clean
a pheasant. I am again
reminded how my son has
grown into a man. I recall
the past fishing trips where
I have taught Matt various
aspects of fishing. Now the
son is teaching the father.
Life comes full circle. I am
blessed beyond words. And
I look forward to my next
opportunity to share the
great Montana outdoors
with Matt.