Smoke
Member
My annual pilgrimage to Monahans was delayed this year. Instead of the usual Labor Day excursion, we rescheduled. Dove season opened on the Monday so we decided to put off our trip for a couple of weeks.
I just got back. IF you haven't read up on these trips try here or here or here
I'm happy to report things have mellowed a bit in our old age, but not too much.
Tom still packs more guns and uses more shells than anyone in West Texas. His brother has loosened up to consider dove hunting a nice outing instead of a fashion show and competitive event.
I arrive in a driving rain, doesn't bode well for birds. Only half the crew has arrived so we sit up half the night discussing books and sampling Modelo Especial. (Is this the same dang group?!) Next morning others arrive. Jay arrives having been picked up by the aptly named "Drunk John". Jay is wearing a Hawaiian shirt, khaki shorts, a fancy floral tooled shoulder holster with a shiny nickel Colt 1911 and a Palm Leaf Straw that provides more shade than any tree on the place.
The sun is out and the birds are starting to move. We head out. We get to an old abandoned drill site; here we will hunt for the afternoon. Everyone grabs a gun and spreads out. We have a Mesquite Thicket impassable to all but snakes, fireants and armadillos on the east side, wide open country as far as one can see (which is a long dang ways out here) to the west. Just a smattering of trees due north, and a strip of trees 15-20ft wide then a whole lot of nothing on the south side.
It doesn't take long for the sun to drive everyone into what little shade can be found along the strip of trees on the south side, chairs are lined up in a row and we sit and talk waiting on the birds. There are 7 of us here.
The birds are coming in from the west, if you don't get them downed before they leave the drill pad; they fall in the impenetrable thicket. You're very lucky if you can find it at all in there, if you don't get it right away, the ants have it partially consumed in short order. And all you can do is leave it to them and go pick out the 23 goat head stickers that are attached to you.
We had to work out a system, 1st person on the west end gets a shot, if the bird is still flying the next guy tries and continues on down the line. IF pairs come in, first guy takes the first bird, second the second, and shooting continues down the line until the bird falls.....or escapes. More escaped than I'd like to allow.
Late in the evening what has become an annual tradition takes place, the arrival of the game warden. It's the same one that has been coming for several years (read the back posts) He eyes us suspiciously because after 12 years of checking up on us he has only succeeded in handing out one ticket (in reality he could have issued more but he has been kind) but for certain things are never dull. At this point we are all sitting mildly in chairs appearing to be the epitome of innocence...that alone makes him suspicious.
He offers a pleasant "howdy" and inquires if the birds are moving since the rain. We all have a small pile of birds, carefully segregated; at the feet of each shooter so he can instantly tell no one is over limit. He eyes down the row of guns, everyone has a double except one, so he doesn't have to check plugs on anyone but Tom. I swear I can tell in his eyes that he is debating even asking for Tom's gun, since Tom is a bit of a smart mouth. Jay takes this opportunity to ask him if he has caught anyone "huntin' nekkid" this year?
This actually loosens him up and he watches as a bird comes in Jay stands and artfully drops it with one shot, retrieves it and sits back down. The game warden finally builds up enough nerve to check Tom's gun, it has a plug, they make small talk and Tom is actually civil, I guess we are mellowing.
Another bird flies in as the game warden starts asking for licenses. Jay stands and drops this one too. The game warden finishes checking everyone out as several birds fly in, Jay stand and takes a nice double, The rest of us are ready for the leftovers, all 6 of us unload in succession at the two remaining birds and watch as they fly off unscathed.
The game warden smirks and turns to leave saying "have a good hunt...."
Jay picks up his birds and yells back "I'm the only one hunting, these boys are practicing shoot and release."
I can hear the game warden, still laughing, as he pulls out of the clearing and leaves.
Smoke
I just got back. IF you haven't read up on these trips try here or here or here
I'm happy to report things have mellowed a bit in our old age, but not too much.
Tom still packs more guns and uses more shells than anyone in West Texas. His brother has loosened up to consider dove hunting a nice outing instead of a fashion show and competitive event.
I arrive in a driving rain, doesn't bode well for birds. Only half the crew has arrived so we sit up half the night discussing books and sampling Modelo Especial. (Is this the same dang group?!) Next morning others arrive. Jay arrives having been picked up by the aptly named "Drunk John". Jay is wearing a Hawaiian shirt, khaki shorts, a fancy floral tooled shoulder holster with a shiny nickel Colt 1911 and a Palm Leaf Straw that provides more shade than any tree on the place.
The sun is out and the birds are starting to move. We head out. We get to an old abandoned drill site; here we will hunt for the afternoon. Everyone grabs a gun and spreads out. We have a Mesquite Thicket impassable to all but snakes, fireants and armadillos on the east side, wide open country as far as one can see (which is a long dang ways out here) to the west. Just a smattering of trees due north, and a strip of trees 15-20ft wide then a whole lot of nothing on the south side.
It doesn't take long for the sun to drive everyone into what little shade can be found along the strip of trees on the south side, chairs are lined up in a row and we sit and talk waiting on the birds. There are 7 of us here.
The birds are coming in from the west, if you don't get them downed before they leave the drill pad; they fall in the impenetrable thicket. You're very lucky if you can find it at all in there, if you don't get it right away, the ants have it partially consumed in short order. And all you can do is leave it to them and go pick out the 23 goat head stickers that are attached to you.
We had to work out a system, 1st person on the west end gets a shot, if the bird is still flying the next guy tries and continues on down the line. IF pairs come in, first guy takes the first bird, second the second, and shooting continues down the line until the bird falls.....or escapes. More escaped than I'd like to allow.
Late in the evening what has become an annual tradition takes place, the arrival of the game warden. It's the same one that has been coming for several years (read the back posts) He eyes us suspiciously because after 12 years of checking up on us he has only succeeded in handing out one ticket (in reality he could have issued more but he has been kind) but for certain things are never dull. At this point we are all sitting mildly in chairs appearing to be the epitome of innocence...that alone makes him suspicious.
He offers a pleasant "howdy" and inquires if the birds are moving since the rain. We all have a small pile of birds, carefully segregated; at the feet of each shooter so he can instantly tell no one is over limit. He eyes down the row of guns, everyone has a double except one, so he doesn't have to check plugs on anyone but Tom. I swear I can tell in his eyes that he is debating even asking for Tom's gun, since Tom is a bit of a smart mouth. Jay takes this opportunity to ask him if he has caught anyone "huntin' nekkid" this year?
This actually loosens him up and he watches as a bird comes in Jay stands and artfully drops it with one shot, retrieves it and sits back down. The game warden finally builds up enough nerve to check Tom's gun, it has a plug, they make small talk and Tom is actually civil, I guess we are mellowing.
Another bird flies in as the game warden starts asking for licenses. Jay stands and drops this one too. The game warden finishes checking everyone out as several birds fly in, Jay stand and takes a nice double, The rest of us are ready for the leftovers, all 6 of us unload in succession at the two remaining birds and watch as they fly off unscathed.
The game warden smirks and turns to leave saying "have a good hunt...."
Jay picks up his birds and yells back "I'm the only one hunting, these boys are practicing shoot and release."
I can hear the game warden, still laughing, as he pulls out of the clearing and leaves.
Smoke
