Eight local folk and I gathered around our pick up trucks at one of the farm houses outside this Central California town at 7:30 am. There was an anticipation of what kind of hunt was to be on this crisp fall morning.
I won't try and explain hunting a field for upland birds in this post.
This was my first time ever of actual wild bird hunting. I was following the lead of my friend Ken on what to expect and how the hunt was run.
Team effort of men and dogs to hunt pheasant in these large fields makes it work.
Over the last two years I have envisioned this day. When we got Chloe in late summer of 2007, the breeder and I talked about hunting upland birds.
It was not until this morning that I got to experience a wild pheasant hunt.
Very seldom in life does reality and a vision of what something will be like match.
This morning with the warm sun on my face and wind blowing the fresh scents of the fields to me, I felt very comfortable in this environment. Something genetic must reawaken from hunting.
What was important to me was that I felt the soil beneath my boots and that I found that connection to the hunter that is in most of us.