Ah, Minnesota, the land of lakes, loons, and apparently, elusive pheasants that possess PhDs in dodging shotgun pellets. As the pheasant season comes to a close, I find myself reflecting on the highs, the lows, and the downright absurdities that have defined my ~15 hunting escapades this season.
Let’s talk numbers for a moment. Out of those 15 hunts, I hit my limits on five occasions. A triumphant victory, you might think? Hold your horses. On the flip side, there were those five trips where I managed to snag precisely one bird. Yes, you heard it right – one bird. I guess you could say my aim is as consistent as Minnesota weather (which, let’s be honest, is all over the place, especially this year). But overall, I saw some beautiful and unique land & birds alike this season!
Now, let’s address the five outings where I missed every single bird that had the audacity to fly within my shooting range. I’ve come to terms with the fact that my shooting accuracy might be as mythical as Bigfoot. My faithful dog, a four-legged comedian with a knack for side-eye glances, seems to share this sentiment. Picture this: I swing my shotgun, take a shot, and as the bird soars off into the distance, I turn to my dog, who’s giving me a look that screams, “Really? That bird had a better chance of hitting you!” I again had “Maverick, buzz the tower” a few times and he just won’t even look at me.
Speaking of my canine companion, he deserves an honorary mention in this season’s chronicles. Not only does he have a nose for sniffing out those elusive pheasants, but he’s also a master of comedic timing. On one particular occasion, after a spectacular miss on my part, I swear I saw him shake his head in disbelief. If dogs could facepalm, he would’ve done it.
Now, let’s delve into the family aspect of this wild pheasant chase. My 10-year-old son, a budding outdoors enthusiast with a penchant for rolling his eyes at dad’s so-called “hunting skills,” joined me on five outings. Picture this dynamic duo – a middle-aged hunter with a shotgun that has seen better days, and his pint-sized sidekick who, let’s be honest, is probably the one keeping this operation together.
On our father-son hunting expeditions, there were moments of bonding, laughter, and the occasional “Dad, you missed again?” remarks that have become the soundtrack of my hunting life. The birds, it seems, have developed a sixth sense when my son is around, making themselves scarce just to keep the entertainment levels high.
Yet, amid the hits, misses, and eye rolls, there’s a beauty in wrapping up another pheasant season in the great state of Minnesota. It’s not just about the bagging of birds or the thrill of the chase. It’s about the camaraderie, the shared jokes, and the stories that will be retold around the dinner table for years to come. I want to thank my shooting buddies who adopted me into this sport and allowed me to tag along for the last few years.
So, here’s to you, Minnesota pheasants, you wily-feathered illusionists. You’ve provided me with enough material for a comedy special, a few life lessons, and a renewed appreciation for the unpredictable nature of outdoor pursuits. As the season closes its chapter, I’ll hang up my orange vest, bid adieu to my dog’s judgmental glares, and eagerly await the next adventure, because in the world of pheasant hunting, one thing is for sure – you never know what the next season might bring. Until then, happy trails, and may your aim be truer than mine.
As the 2023 season and year passes us by, if you need to pick up any gear in prep of the next outdoor adventure, please make sure to click my link to find great deals at Amazon or even support my small business with some great branded hats, shirts sweatshirts, stickers, etc… Thanks everyone and happy hunting!
