"I never tell a dirty joke - it's a cheap way to get a laugh." ~ Red Skelton
Gentle Readers and Loved Ones,
Yesterday, it was my privilege to spend a half day with my son, nephew and friend way up north of the Twin Cities at Pheasant Ridge Shooting Preserve. Pheasant Ridge is a really wonderful game farm. I've been there a lot. Rory has won 3 ribbons at NAHRA Retriever Tests there and I hope to add to more come next March in our Upland Test. But I brag.....
Gentle Reader, it is my fervent hope that if you choose to google "Cock Fest" you will exercise some caution. Despite the professionalism and good hospitality of the Pheasant Ridge people, they have chosen a name for their hunting/shooting competition that skirts the envelope of vulgarity. Please use care if you enter "Cock Fest" into a search engine.
The general idea is that you show up with a group of people who wish to compete in outdoor shooting and hunting. The competition is two-fold. A very quick sporting clay shoot ( 6 shots ) and a chance to hunt pheasant roosters - 'cocks' - out in the game preserves' fields. I think you get 4 birds planted per member of your team.
Pheasant Ridge uses a fairly complex formula for scoring your sporting clay shooting success. The weight of the pheasants you harvest divided by the number of competitors in your group is folded into the number of clays you break. Quite frankly, I don't understand it and can't explain it. But then, I don't care either. Because that's not what I was there for.
Yesterday, I got to run Rory with 3 other guys with planted pheasants and Rory found all 16 of them. Plus he found another 2 'scratch birds' out in the periphery. Even more important, he broke the tether between me and other hunters. He ran and was obedient and excited about hunting for someone else. I'm so proud, I could bust. Success!
He ran himself ragged for 3 hours and showed off all our hard work in training over the last few years.
He ran himself ragged for 3 hours and showed off all our hard work in training over the last few years.
Some videos and pictures.
First, Rory gave me a look as I wrote this for bloviating on so much.
As I said before, we were assigned a field with previously 'planted' roosters. Here is the video of our first rooster harvest.
Next Rory found a rooster that was so domesticated, it refused to fly. The last day of a Game Farm Pheasant's life is brutal and short. You may think poorly of me for this, I will remain apathetic about it. What I am proud of is how tenacious Rory was with insisting there was bird in the snow.
Next I have this picture of us all hunting the frozen Tundra.
Finally, this one last video of harvesting the third bird of the day.
Gentle Reader, it is with some shame that I admit at this point, my GoPro camera ran out of battery and I did not realize it. So, the opportunity to capture more riveting video for your popcorn pleasure was missed by your author. Do not yell "Yippee!"
This last video is from my son's phone. I was tuckered out and waiting in the truck. They were way out in the boonies trying for scratch birds. And Rory found one for them!
On that happy note, I remain,
Dad/Geoff
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