"Cut The Pickle"....The Perfect Pheasant Opener!

Every outdoor father dreams of their child's first hunt. My five-year-old son, Brady Michael, has been fishing steadily the last two years.  But, guns and birds are a whole 'nother story.  While Brady's little 40 pound frame is still a bit lean for tall, grassy pheasant fields, I decided this October pheasant opener would be his first.  Of course, I burned up Brady's brand new pair of boot Thursday night using a torch to melt in the mink oil I had minutes earlier applied.  Guess I forgot I had soaked his little boots in silicone spray a bit earlier in the evning.   Torch met Buster boots and *poof!*.  Quite a scene with Brady screaming over the small bonfire in the garage while I ran for the hose.   After a sleepless night pondering where I might find replacements on short notice,  I awoke to find Brady already up and in the kitchen waiting on a bowl of Fruity Pebbles.  He had his burned up boots, a clean blaze orange vest, his favorite Pheasants Forever hat and a pile of snacks already packed in his new field bag.  After a stop at the  local boot store (yes! they had one pair his size in stock),  we arrived in St James, Minnesota where a quick stop at Grandpa's house turned into an afternoon of shooting at the gun range.

Headed to the gun range

It's pheasant opener so kids ride up front (Don't worry.  It was just a couple blocks on the dirt road). Brady had a chance to pop off a few boxes of .22 rounds under the watchful eye of Grandpa Becker.

It appears he mounts his gun just like Dad does. Ha!

 Brady decided we needed to save his first target.  Hmmmm, I wonder how long it'll take Grandpa to find it.  

Next morning, we packed up and drove dirt roads over to the next town to take part in Minnesota's Governor's Pheasant Opener.   Our crew hit a birdy-lookin' piece of CREP just north of Madelia.  There, Brady fit right in with our mostly adult hunting party.  He wasn't a fan of deep grass, so he spent most of the hunt out on the edge of the habitat or riding on my shoulders.

 While shouldering Brady took me out of the shooting game, it didn't keep us from kicking up a lone rooster we eventually brought to hand.

 The best story came from Madelia's lunchtime land dedication.  Brady and I pulled in to the makeshift parking lot and hopped out to head to the lunch tent.  Suddenly,  Governor Dayton's motorcade pulled alongside us and the Governor hopped out for a "photo op" with Brady.   The Governor dropped to one knee while a couple photographers lined up the shot and Brady proceeded to tell the Gov "No way."   A bit chagrined, Mr. Dayton hopped back up and Brady swung around, both pointer fingers together and  said,  "Hey,  cut the pickle."  The Governor didn't quite know how to react.  Brady held up his fingers and repeated, "Cut the pickle!"  Finally, the Governor gave in and gave a quick chop.    Brady proceeded to grab Dayton's stomach and giggled, "Tickle! Tickle! Tickle!"  The whole scene made my weekend.   Governor Dayton chuckled a bit and  threw Brady a quick high-five.    Not bad kiddo.

A hi-five for the Governor

Brady spent the rest of the afternoon back at Grandpa's house lounging with a couple Lego kits while I headed back to the field with a few friends.  We had an INCREDIBLE afternoon hunt putting up, at best guess by the crew, more than 100 birds on the same piece of property we hunted in the morning.   Just had to wait until the birds left the corn fields for the habitat.

Hats off to Madelia, Minnesota's Pheasant Capital, for a GREAT 2013 Governor's Hunt.  I never knew pickles and pheasants would go so well together.....