My last precious day of vacation. I'm not talking about sitting under a palm tree sipping a cold one either. Instead, 25 mph winds and hard frozen snow. It's the kind of wind that makes your eyes water and your chin numb. When the weather is too crumby for being on stand, you can bet my dog is 20 yards in front of me and I'm sporting a sexy orange vest.
I felt like I was in a NASCAR race driving to my pheasant ground. The wind would whip my truck around like it was made of cardboard. The driveway back into our family farm has a long brushy field line alone it that usually hold birds. Not today. It's to open and the wind is beating it up pretty badly. If they are not there, they are somewhere else. This actually is a good thing. The line is super hard to get a close flush out of. The snow is rock hard so they now can run like the little roadrunners they are. They've been pressured now for a month or so and holding tight isn't in their agenda.
This wind will take care of that, I was hoping to myself. As we began and got our first flushes, things weren't lookin' so hot. Positioning myself as best as I could to the side of the cover I was thinking would produce the flush wasn't working. The birds were not holding all too tight to my surprise. Didn't really matter though because we were there and so were the birds. That truely is what it's about. Being there.