The doves begin to come in, singles mostly, wanting to feed. Every now and then we hear a shot, mostly on the other end of the field, as there are not many birds on our end. Grandpa chose this end of the field when I first came with him, at age 8, eight years ago. There is a really big, thick hedgerow on our end that the doves can't fly through, but have to fly over. I notice Grandpa is looking in that direction a good bit of the time.
It's now 3:30, and it clouds up a bit and I remember something that happened here several years ago. It was Grandpa and me, my brother wasn't here that day, and we were shooting regularly when a rain shower came up from the southwest. We beat it to the truck, because it got pretty hard for a while. After about 30 minutes in the truck Grandpa said to me "See that clear sky below the clouds to the southwest?" I said I did. He said "In a little while that will be here and the rain will be over, and you are going to see a sight you've never seen before". I asked what that was. He said "Every dove in this part of the country will pour into this field at the same time, and you will have the fastest shooting you've ever imagined. Get ready, 'cause we're going to have some fun". Wow!, was he right. When the rain stopped we went back out to our stands, and in about 20 minutes we were literally covered up with doves, for the next hour or more. The birds seemed frantic to get in there and feed, like they were starving to death.
We've developed a kind of plan where each of us covers a portion of the sky looking for incomers, and depend on the other two to give a "heads up" if there are incomers from that way. No one has said a word, but my brother throws up and fires. I look quickly and see a dove tumbling out of the sky, as I simultaneously hear the sound of his pumpgun shucking. Then, when I look back on the other side of me there are three incomers right on top of me. I jump to my feet, throw up and trigger the gun, but no dice. They have beat me, and I never caught up with them. I'm "in the hole" already. But, I think, the afternoon is young.
The action begins in earnest. Doves are coming from all directions, shots are heard from many stands, and the excitement builds. We are all shooting regularly now, hitting and missing. Missing, mostly when a big drove of 6 to 10 come barreling in over that hedgerow at the speed limit, cutting and jiving in acrobatic maneuvers. Opening day + the first big flurry = poor shooting. Everyone is excited, and abandon basic shooting fundamentals, shooting off balance and letting fast incomers "screw them into the ground". Shouts of frustration are heard from nearby standers.
Grandpa is sitting very still on his seat................waiting, for what I do not know. Why isn't he shooting? Birds seem to be in range of him and he doesn't even raise his gun. I don't understand. I and my brother continue to shoot, a lot, and kill a dove occasionally. Grandpa just sits, and looks, and waits................. . What is he waiting for? It looks like he has passed up several shots that he could have ordinarily taken easily.
Then, I hear a shot, look quickly his way and see a dove falling straight towards me. If hits the ground no more than 5 steps away. Grandpa says "Grab that bird for me, buddy". He gets up and starts toward me, I retrieve his bird and toss it to him. "Thank you kindly" he says with a wink.
A huge bank of cumulus clouds block the sun and it feels as if the temperature drops 10 degrees. No sooner than I notice that I hear a distant yell, "Coming from the branch!". As my eyes focus toward that distant treeline I begin to see droves of doves in the sky moving our way. I yell to my brother "Get ready!".
More to come.......
SRH
