Thursday, September 08, 2005
Dove Season
September 1 marks the opening of Dove season. This year, I ran into JT over the weekend. JT was O'Dell's best friend. They grew up together, entered the military in WWII together, and met on the porch many evenings to reminisce. Before O'Dell's passing, he and JT never missed Opening Day of Dove season. One year, I came home from work and there were O'Dell and JT sitting in lawn chairs in the back yard with their guns. They had played golf earlier that morning and just figured they didn't have to go anywhere else to hunt. Sure enough, they had a mess of Dove before sundown.
Going on those hunts was always a treat regardless of whether I got any birds or not. O'Dell and JT often met Forrest in the field (a dairy farm in Shelby County). Forrest was alledged to be an excellent shot, but his skills were declining (he was older than either JT or O'Dell). Forrest would walk across the field to a likely spot and, if he couldn't find shade, he'd build himself a little enclosure using corn stalks. Forrest would then promptly fall asleep much to the chagrin of JT. O'Dell and I found it hard not to laugh at JT's calls: "Bird! Forrest! Bird! Damnit, Forrest, wake up! Bird!"
O'Dell was, of course, a magnificent shot. He often got doubles and usually got his limit. On one particular occasion, a bird came over O'Dell very high. He stood, took a shot, and watched carefully as the bird dropped into the field. He walked over. Retrieved the bird. Then, he put it in the paper sack he was using as a game bag. With his gun lying across his lap, he lit a cigarette and reloaded, all the while keeping his eye on the sky. Another bird, another shot, and he got up to get it. He dropped the second bird into the bag, which promptly exploded. The first bird had only been stunned, and the second bird dropping into the sack startled it into frenzied flight. The surprise almost knocked O'Dell down.
Sometimes we'd hunt over a hog lot in LeCompte Bottom. That was where O'Dell shot me. It was a high shot and the pellets rained down trough the tree I was sitting under. Hot shot down the collar is uncomfortable. You had to get to any bird you downed and guard your game bag or the hogs would steal it from you.
Going on those hunts was always a treat regardless of whether I got any birds or not. O'Dell and JT often met Forrest in the field (a dairy farm in Shelby County). Forrest was alledged to be an excellent shot, but his skills were declining (he was older than either JT or O'Dell). Forrest would walk across the field to a likely spot and, if he couldn't find shade, he'd build himself a little enclosure using corn stalks. Forrest would then promptly fall asleep much to the chagrin of JT. O'Dell and I found it hard not to laugh at JT's calls: "Bird! Forrest! Bird! Damnit, Forrest, wake up! Bird!"
O'Dell was, of course, a magnificent shot. He often got doubles and usually got his limit. On one particular occasion, a bird came over O'Dell very high. He stood, took a shot, and watched carefully as the bird dropped into the field. He walked over. Retrieved the bird. Then, he put it in the paper sack he was using as a game bag. With his gun lying across his lap, he lit a cigarette and reloaded, all the while keeping his eye on the sky. Another bird, another shot, and he got up to get it. He dropped the second bird into the bag, which promptly exploded. The first bird had only been stunned, and the second bird dropping into the sack startled it into frenzied flight. The surprise almost knocked O'Dell down.
Sometimes we'd hunt over a hog lot in LeCompte Bottom. That was where O'Dell shot me. It was a high shot and the pellets rained down trough the tree I was sitting under. Hot shot down the collar is uncomfortable. You had to get to any bird you downed and guard your game bag or the hogs would steal it from you.
Comments:
<< Home
Just spent a pleasant few minutes reading your blog.
I had not heard that particular dove hunt story. Good storytelling!
I remember well Forrest coming over to our house when I was little, having coffee in the kitchen before heading off for the hunt.
Post a Comment
I had not heard that particular dove hunt story. Good storytelling!
I remember well Forrest coming over to our house when I was little, having coffee in the kitchen before heading off for the hunt.
<< Home
