Recent Fowl Articles

RESULTS 81-90 of 93

Sort By Most Recentsort icon
Roostermania
Snap your fingers. There you go--you now have access to roughly 1 million acres of prime pheasant hunting land in Kansas. You didn't have to second-mortgage your home, promise your first-born son nor hit the lottery. You didn't knock on a door, shake a hand or sign a lease agreement. Just snap your fingers. This is your ground, and if you happen to be a fanatical rooster hunter, well, pardner, you've obviously been living right.Since 1995, the state of Kansas has offered hunters what the Department of Wildlife & Parks (KDWP) refers to as WIHA, its Walk-In Hunting Area program.

The Wild Way
There are, around the world, twenty-one species of quail. Ten of these are found in the Americas alone, from Canada all the way south to Paraguay. To the average American hunter, however, quail means just one thing: bobwhites. The bobwhite--Mr. Bob, Gentleman Bob, Sir Robert--is the gamebird that defines this country.

Love-Hate
Don't you just hate ruffed grouse? Me too. Well, I don't actually have hard feelings toward the bird, but I do hate the way it can make me look like I took up shotgunning only minutes before I arrived in the woods. Like the time I was enjoying an early-season outing with two friends on Michigan's Upper Peninsula. On that particular day we were hunting on a farm that once belonged to one of the Williams brothers who owned a famous old shop, Williams Gun Sight Company. The woods were absolutely ablaze with color, and the weather was perfect for grouse hunting.I had brought along two guns, a No.

Home Schooled
It's strange how one short her-onk can make you forget all about sweltering heat, clouds of blood-thirsty insects and rivers of sweat."Cover up!" Hunting companion and good friend R.J. Williams had scheduled a morning to serve as impromptu guide for me and my wife, Julie. "They're coming out from the south," he said under his breath. "Hit that flag." I flicked a well-worn T-Flag once, then twice. To my left, Williams cut loose with a quick series of low-pitched greetings followed by some higher-pitched ground noise.

There's Red-Legs In Them Rocks!
You want synonymous terms? How's chukar partridge and physical endurance? Or chukars and frustration? Any man experienced with these Asian imports will tell you both are accurate. However, if he's a truthful man, he'll also say that red-legs and public opportunities are also synonymous.Such is the case in Idaho above the Snake and Salmon rivers, and that godforsaken jumble of rocks known as Hells Canyon.

Gear Up For Doves
In my part of the country dove shooting is often more a social event than a hunt. Even though a good percentage of shooters could care less about actually getting their limit of birds, they will admit that occasionally hitting one is more fun than filling the air with lead pellets all day long without cutting a single feather.

Tough It Out
The fact that shooting companion Phil Bourjaily had convinced me to travel any distance to waterfowl hunt in Iowa was notable in and of itself. What made my participation even more astounding was the fact that our hunt was taking place on a notoriously crowded public wildlife area."That's a lot of ducks." Bourjaily, always quick with an understatement, was right. It was a lot of ducks. As we rounded the corner of a tiny point of soggy ground and half-submerged smartweed, Aqua-Pods in tow, we startled some 300 mallards, wigeon, gadwall and teal into flight. "That looks like the spot," said Mr.

Between The Lakes Longbeards
If there's anything better than wrapping your tag around the dagger-like spurs of a big 'ole spring gobbler, it's to do so with a bird you've just killed on public land. Thanks to an abundance of well-meaning folks running around State Forest X or Wildlife Management Area Y scratching out box-call cacophonies and diaphragm diatribes, the longbeards residing on public parcels earn their doctorates in Human Avoidance quickly.

Competitive Edge
The bird marched across 500 yards of open field with no hesitation. Boom! Stepping over the broken two-strand, my wife, Julie, and I ran to the fallen gobbler. High-fives and hugs--a pleasant benefit of hunting with my wife--made us all but forget about the three noncommittal longbeards we'd earlier worked for almost two hours not 150 yards from where we were kneeling."I wonder," I asked, slipping a diaphragm into my mouth. My first yelp was shattered by a cacophony of gobbling. "Those birds are coming!" Julie hissed, running in a half-crouch back to the fence line.

Slammin' A-Cross The Country
The morning began slowly, with only a few distant gobbles, and tapered off dramatically after the birds hit the ground. After an hour or so of nothing, my cameraman and I were ready to pick up and move. Scott, my camera man, was the first out of our hand-made ground blind. I was just standing to stretch my cramped legs when he dove back in and excitedly whispered, "Strutter and a hen, headed right to us." I dropped back on my rear, propped my bow up and tried to slow my breathing.We wouldn't see the birds until they were already in range. "Be ready," I whispered.

Sort By Most Recentsort icon
RESULTS 81-90 of 93