SWMBO could see the look on the Black Piranha's face. She was restless. She wants to hunt hard at this time of year. It wasn't actually my suggestion that the dog and I go hunting. I put a call in. Craig said that birds were thin on the ground and very flighty. Today he, Mitch, Mick and Jethro had worked hard for one bird bagged. None the less, I packed dog and human lunches, prepared my vest with an ammo top up, GPS and added a small folding knife and a couple of OSM (One Square Meal) bars. I'd felt fit the previous hunt, so no dramas on that front.
Its a three hour drive to Craig's and I'd want to be there close after sunrise, mainly to catch the birds out sunning after overnight rain. Just after 8 am I arrived and caught up with Craig and Kathryn. Craig gave me a rundown on the previous day's activities. He'd seen 3 birds and shot one, the other guys hadn't taken a shot. He gave me a pointer on where to start and after parking the truck I set off behind a very excited Labrador retriever. We'd gone only a short way beside the river when with a huge amount of quacking and wing flurrying a mob of ducks took to the air. Layla sped her pace, nose to ground and I was convinced the duck scent had wafted up to her.... no marks out of 10 for me when she bumped a rooster that gave me no chance to shoot. Mental uppercut. Chance blown... but he'd flown down river rather than across, so maybe we could pick him up a little later.
This stretch of river is great for bird holding, for exactly the same reason as its a pain for fly fishing - overhanging cover. Trees, blackberries, steep banks, deep water. Ugly, ugly, ugly for angling. But oh such beautiful territory for pheasants. The grass was damp so any scent held would be recent. We approached a corner shaded by a large macrocarpa, beneath which was strewn fallen sticks, grasses and flood debris from a high water event. We worked around and into the shaded area. When the bird launched he'd put the tree between us and away he flew making a small series of clucks. Back where we'd come from; clearly he was comfortable on his home turf. I'll use that against him later in the season.
And now we left the tree cover for more open area, with the river separated from the stock paddock by a fence. The fence was festooned with growth, good cover for holding birds. and we hadn't gone far when Layla lit up - there was no doubt that she'd hit a pheasant scent. I got into position while she drove hard into a patch of dead blackberry and a cock bird burst out. He'd cleared the far bank when the oz of #5 hit him flush. Layla marked him, then launched into and swam the river, dragging herself up the far bank, nabbing and bringing the bird back. All in all some really good work on her part.
2 wet tails
On we went covering a range of territory by the river, all the while ducks and grey teal flushed ahead of us. Through a copse of young trees we pushed, no pheasants at home. Every patch of gorse and scrub was covered. No pheasant. finally we arrived at a bend of the river. Here it turns 90 degrees, and a large tree sits prominently on the bend. And here in the past I'd been undone by a nice bird. Layla was hot. We closed in together and the bird that exploded was safe within a few seconds of flight, I simply couldn't get a bead on him and he made cover. Not only that but across the river, another bird took to the air, cackling his goodbyes to me. 4 birds seen in the first 90 minutes.
We worked back towards the truck taking an alternative direction but saw nothing further. With plenty of time on my side I'd figured on trying for birds I'd seen a few weeks ago. At the road we came up behind Craig who was moving his cattle into a new paddock. I stopped and let him know my intention to head to the next farm and try the gullies I'd hunted last time. I parked the truck and was donning my hunting vest and figuring out my next move over a refreshing drink and cheese roll, just taking in the scene. Sunny day, slight breeze, cool air, just a lovely winter's day. As I watched a hawk cruise low over a turnip crop to my surprise a cock bird spooked by the harrier leaped, flew 100m and set down in a gorse clump. Gun ready. Bringing the dog to heel we moved over as quietly as we could, even so the bird took to the air with a huge cackle well out in front and my shot only winged him so he hit the ground running. Over the brow of a hill, through a fence. Layla stopped dead at the fence, unable to get through. Puffing, I arrived on the scene and boosted the dog over and she took off, nose down... and was gone for enough time for me to have to cross the fence myself and go looking. I found her in the next gully, wandering back with a very live bird in her mouth which I retrieved her of. 2 birds in the bag!
My legs were feeling it now; as opposed to the last hunt I was feeling pretty shattered. I'd figured a plan but had slightly miscalculated my path and ended up climbing up through a steep gully that I'd intended to push down through ... Layla had hit no scent at all on the way up, yet last trip we'd bumped a few birds here. At the top I took a few moments to get my breath back. Time for my final fling. A hillock coated with gorse. Sheltered at its high point by a large tree, providing dry cover. North facing slope to catch the winter rays. Food, warmth, shelter from the wind. And as I knew from last time, a hangout for at least one bird that had flushed unseen with that throaty wattle warble of a cock bird. Quietly with dog at heel we entered from a steep bank above the tree, dropping down into the shaded shelter zone. And Layla's nose hit the ground, she pushed in through the gorse cover and emerged before circling back. The way she charged in to the scrub the second time, I knew she'd seen the bird... and she pushed it hard so that when he boosted from the gorse thicket he presented that perfect oncoming overhead shot that gunners love so much and at the shot he folded, stone dead. Beautiful.
Done before lunch, finished with a highlight bird. As I wandered back to the truck, Layla continued to hunt, and I stayed close as she covered thickets of gorse. From a prominent point a cock bird saw us and jumped at least 200 m out, undoubtedly one of the birds I'd been told about - spooky and flighty.
At the truck the dog and I shared lunch and talked about the morning's hunt. She agreed that she needed to work closer in early in the day. I promised to touch up a bit on my shooting, that second bird had been a bit of a rusty effort. We both agreed to split the ham, tomato and cheese rolls 50:50. She agreed that a swim in the river to wash some mud off her coat was a good idea, and that for me to throw sticks for her to grab was even better.
After that, we headed home.
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