A Damn Cold End....
Tuesday, January 4, 2011 at 10:26AM 
Ripley, Our Lead Dog...
So, how cold is *cold* to you? What I'm asking; Just how low does the mercury need to dip before you call it quits on a hunt? I ask only after my last pheasant outing of the year. Actually, I might better be served calling it a cold war versus an outing. Pheasants Forever buddy Anthony Hauck and I got the crazy idea to hook up with fellow ringneck junkie John Maile and walk one last piece of habitat in 2010. Your average end-of-season hunt, with a single twist....We'd hunt on snowshoes. Not so much out of want, but more out of necessitiy.
My Trusty "Tubbs"
Keep in mind, Minnesotans just wrapped up a record December for snowfall and we figured we'd need a bit of help getting around the field. As we geared up in 10 degree weather, I don't think any of us had any idea we'd have such a tough hunt. Photojournalist Aaron Achtenberg could feel his hands freezing up, even as we still layered on our gear. As we set out from the trucks, we walked west directly into a stinging wind that darn near instantly numbed any exposed skin. We also found ourselves trudging through several feet of snow. In spots, we cut through drifts more than waist deep. Not easy going, but the snowshoes certainly helped. In the deep stuff, you need to kinda lift your leg straight up to clear the shoe of brush and snow and step forward. Once you get the hang of "marching, it's not a bad go.
The Crew...
We first walked a two or three hundred yard food plot and noticed quite a few birds pushing out of the far end into thicker cover. At one point, I watched a tight plume of thirty or forty pheasants bump out. I don't know that I've seen pheasants fly so closely together. They almost looked like a flock of blackbirds. After no luck in the food plot, we hopped across the road and tackled a roughly 50 acre slew of cattails. For this task John and I ditched our snowshoes to cut up the middle while Anthony walked the edge. We fought waist deep cattails, flushing hens much of the way across the slew. Near the end, a big bird startled me as it flushed just a few feet ahead. I noticed the white collar and mounted my gun and quickly pulled the trigger. Bang! The rooster kept flying. I rechecked my aim and pulled the trigger a second time. No response. Turns out the cold weather had gummed up the grease in my chamber and the second shell never quite popped into place. I chuckled a bit as the rooster headed for some far-away hiding spot and disappeared over the far hill....
How did I miss?
A few minutes later I called over Aaron and he pointed the video camera as I pulled off my sunglasses. My right eye had just about frozen shut and he had a hard time keeping a steady shot as he laughed at my predicament. I pulled off my glove and gently pulled away the ice and regained use of both eyes. I wish I had snapped a still shot of my eye. Wow, it was proving to be a damn cold end to the hunting season....
Tools of the Trade
By day's end, we had seen more than 100 birds, but only shot at half a dozen or so roosters. We wrapped up the season with one of the coldest hunts I can remember. Strange, but the toughest hunts are also the most profound. I'm guessing none of us will soon forget the 2010 season...
Done...
Oh, one other note. Thanks to Anthony for all the still photos. I normally like to take a bunch of photos on these shoots, but turns out my little Panasonic camera also succumed to the extreme conditions. Watch for the story on this hunt in Due North Outdoors next fall!
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