A friend told me that a group of doves were feasting on a patch of tea weeds in his pasture and to go check it out. Anyone calling himself a hunter could never turn down an invitation like that.

I drove over to the field and gingerly walked down toward a group of cattle munching hay from a metal hayrack. No birds emerged from the strip of tea weeds as I approached. “Maybe my friend was mistaken” ran through my mind.

Suddenly the cattle took a disliking to this stranger invading their domain and started strutting off. At their moving a big group of doves took wing but out of range. The adrenaline began to flow at the sight of this large covey and I quickened my pace, thinking maybe there would be a straggler to shoot at.

Sure enough there were two that got up late and made the mistake of getting in front of my shotgun blast. Not that I’m a good marksman, but these were stupid doves that flew in the wrong place, into my shell pattern. I waited around a while but it was late evening and the doves never returned.



Call for help



I called in my report to Billy Wade and we arranged a hunt for the next day. “Boy, oh, boy,” I thought, “We’re going to tear them up tomorrow morning.” Later that night my buddy called saying something had come up and he wouldn’t be able to go. The frustration set in.

Next morning I dilly-daddled around and it became late before I left home.

Nothing to worry about, I reasoned in my mind, “It’s a cold morning and those doves will sleep late also.” Little did I realize that I was the only lazy one around because those doves were already on the field eating away when I walked in.

You know what happened next, away they went as I approached, although another late riser fell victim to my hasty shotgun blast. I walked over and picked up my trophy. I lifted him gently to admire the pinkish sheen to his plumage glistening in the cold morning air. This alone was enough to make me thank God for the privilege of hunting in our wonderful country.

Sitting down thinking “They will come back shortly,” I waited a reasonable amount of time and nothing happened. I decided to go check in the direction they departed. After walking a big round and finding nothing I slowly returned. Suddenly that flight of doves had returned during my absence and they arose off the field in a cyclone of wing beats. You can guess, they were out of range. Then without warning another dumb dove made the mistake of coming too close and met his demise.

I looked away toward another passing group and then had a gosh awful time finding the dead dove. I don’t understand how a bird can almost disappear in an open pasture like that but that’s nature’s trick, to blend certain species into the background colors.

I didn’t make the same mistake again by walking away. “Go and sit down beside the hayrack Marcus,” I thought. After about fifteen minutes a group of perhaps twenty doves circled and landed in a pasture just out of range as if tempting me to, “Take us if you can.” A little while later a group of 20 or better landed on an old fence just teasing me to, “Come and get us.” They seemed to take great joy in antagonizing this lone hunter.



Fruitless move



Finally, in a fit of frustration, I approached the fence hoping for another luck shot at a dumb bird that gets up late. No such luck this time. So nothing to do but watch them fly away seeming to shout, “Ha, ha you can’t get us.”

“I’m going to out smart you this time,” runs through my mind as I sit huddled up to a gate and old fence. Low and behold those doves still had the last laugh as they circled around and landed in the open field right in front but out of range. There they sat looking around taunting me with their impenitence.

Suddenly a field lark landed less than six feet away cocking his head and giving me the evil eye as if to say, “What are you doing here? This is my home.” His bright yellow breast radiated color, making one think about how wonderful it is to share nature with all of God’s wild creatures. Oh, how I wished for my camera. A whole group of field larks fed contentedly just across the fence from me, knowing full well they were not my targets.

The doves still enjoyed their game of getting out of range and teasing me.

Frustration was overwhelming me as I left, vowing to meet this adversary another day.

You just wait doves; I’ll show you yet!