Saturdays Hunt

Saturday I went white wing dove hunting for opening day. I had no idea what to expect and what I found was certainly not even close to what I thought would be taking place. I have been bird hunting only one other time with Dad, and we hunted quail. The season opened at twelve so bright and early we accomplished some yard work and headed for the Full-O-Pep Ranch.

As we arrived it had just begun to rain, I wasn't sure how this would affect our hunt or if we might even be able to go on it. We sat with the owners of the land and talked until the rain went to a drizzle. Two miles away we headed down a long dirt road until we came to an opening field of sunflowers as far as you could see. In every direction were hunters, all standing about 25 yards from eachother blasting out of the air anything that braved flying through it. It was a bit scary and exciting at first. All around me were hunters, men and women, who I had no idea to what degree they took their safety. Within thirty seconds there were shotgun pellets falling all around me, you could here them hitting the cars, the shed I was next to and with thirty minutes I had been nailed in the thumb to the point it started to bleed. I was kind of shocked, but it curiously made me feel like a hardass. I had afterall just been shot with a shotgun, penetrating my skin, and I was still moving.

Five minutes into the hunt I killed my first bird. For not having shot in a very long time I was pleased with how well I was doing. It flew overhead, I led a couple yards in front of the bird, pulled the trigger and down it came. It was amazing.

There was a very cute blonde standing by and joking with me about killing her birds. I thought about engaging her but to what degree I wondered. How do you strike up conversation in what felt like a battlefield? We ended up chatting and I found out her name is Allison. One thing I learned quickly about Allison was that she has a very nice husband. My shotgun shrank as I shook his hand.

We ended up cooking the birds at a member of the churchs' house. The Hispanic people never cease to amaze me. They are some of the kindest, most accepting people I have ever come across. They all made sure I was fed, entertained and felt welcome.