Opening day of dove season last Saturday was as humid as it could be without actually raining.
It didn't stop the doves from flying, though, and it was one of the best hunts I've experienced in Arkansas.
A familiar group of old friends met as always before dawn at a farm in Pulaski County. Adam Ratcliffe, the huntmaster, gave his usual speech about safety and explained the field's layout and how the shooters would be arrayed. As usual, Griz, his trusty Drahthaar, was on hand to retrieve birds.
Drahthaars are popular amond this group. Arun Musinipally, an avid fly fisherman, has an exquisitely trained specimen named Orvis. Musinipally deems Orvis, and Drahthaars in general, to be the ultimate all-around hunting dog. Orvis retrieves ducks and doves, but it also hunts squirrels and rabbits, and tracks dead deer.
When Orvis finds a deer, it grasps the end of its leather lead in its mouth and returns to Musinipally. The lead in the mouth signifies that Orvis found the deer and for Musinipally to follow.
"Then he sits on the deer and howls," Musinipally said.
Thus began a spirited discussion about hunting dogs that got even more spirited when somebody injected standard poodles into the mix.
"I'm sure they're good retrievers and all that, but at the end of the day, I ain't gonna be the guy to come back to the ramp with a poodle in my boat," said Dusty McDaniel.
"You don't see many standard poodles since they invented the automatic poodle," I said. Several people looked around to see who would be the first to slap me.
Ratcliffe recounted a rather bizarre experience of hunting pheasants behind a pointing collie.
"I was hunting a center pivot over a collie pointing a bird with three Drahthaars backing him," Ratcliffe said.
"I've had collies for 50 years, and I've never seen one that had the least interest in hunting," I said.
"He didn't have much staying power," Ratcliffe said. "It wasn't like he would keep going after we got done with that center pivot. You had to take him somewhere else, or he'd lose interest and quit."
"Yep," I said. "That's the collie I know and love. They get bored pretty easily."
Dr. Bob McGowan, who recently retired from his family medical practice, as usual brought a few boxes of Shipley's donuts. Brian Carty, owner of the Ace Hardware store on Cantrell Rd., as usual distributed citronella bracelets to repel mosquitos.
At dawn, we grouped up and sortied to the field. As usual I hunted with Doc McGowan at our usual spot in the midway part of the field. Jeff Lawrence and his group hunt the prime spot where the sunflowers meet the treeline. McDaniel is always directly to my right, and Doc is always to my left. McGowan's sons were to his left, and to their left on the corner were Steve Koehler and Musinipally.
The fog thickened and coated my sunglasses with moisture, requiring me to scrub them every 10 minutes or so. Moisture streamed down my temples and forehead, forcing me to shed my ballcap.
Flickering in the haze were the fluttering wings of Mojo dove decoys. Most of us plant them in the ground on short poles, but some have tall frames that hold multiple Mojos. Doves home in on the Mojos, and hunters that use them get more shots than hunters that don't.
Finally, the first volley of gunfire crackled from the treeline, and a chorus of shouts heralded the downing of the day's first dove. The action picked up quickly, and soon gunfire thundered from every station.
The birds came in flurries. Knots of doves buzzed the field in short bursts, followed by long stretches of birdless skies.
Lulled by inaction, hunters ventured into the field to retrieve their dead birds, and that's always when the biggest flocks arrived.
Uncannily, it happened most frequently, and with the greatest number of birds, when I walked out to retrieve a dead bird.
A classic southern dove hunt called for a classic shotgun, so I packed a 16-gauge Winchester Model 12 that I obtained two weeks ago. That shotgun is 68 years old, so I brought a Browning Auto-5 Sweet 16 for backup in case the Model 12 malfunctioned.
I used Herters 1-ounce loads of No. 8 lead. The full choke on the Model 12 came in very handy for throwing such small, light pellets in a dense, lethal pattern. It enabled me to take birds cleanly to about one-third of the distance across the field. However, fired many shells before I dialed in the correct distance to lead my birds. The "aha" moment finally arrived when I led a fairly close bird by about 8 feet instead of 6 feet. Only then did I realize I had been shooting behind them most of the morning.
After that, my percentage improved exponentially, and I cobbled together a lazy limit with a bird here and a bird there. I got my last shortly before the birds stopped flying for the morning.
Doc McGowan, however, dusted birds more than halfway across the field with his H&K 12-gauge over/under. Some of the shots he made were spectacular.
Many of us returned for an encore on Sunday morning, but a lot fewer birds flew. I spent most of the day chatting with McDaniel. He took any bird to our right, and I took the ones that flared to the left. In this way we cobbled together a lazy half limit each.
When it was over, we gathered back at the equipment shed for barbecue ribs, pork loin, bratwurst and cold beverages. We talked guns, dogs and hunting until we parted ways.
We'll all meet again, Lord willing, at the same place and same time next year.
Sports on 09/09/2018