Pennsylvania Game News - November 2017 - 60

Too Good to Pass Up

SHOT ONE pheasant last year. It was about 20 rows into a standing cornfield, very near the
exact spot a rabbit would cross on its 300-yard circle away from a bawling beagle.
The rabbit darted from a thicket into the corn before I could shoulder the shotgun. Then,
just as quick, the rooster blew out of the field and skidded to a stop on its grassy edge - and I
connected with a shot that true pheasant hunters might have passed up.
When it comes to ringnecks, beaglers can't be choosers, I reasoned.
I happily stuffed the bird into my game pouch, ultimately caught up with the rabbit, then
another, and should have had a third before I leashed the dog to hustle home, then back to the
deer woods for a sit through sunset.
It was a memorable day afield to say the least.
But when Pennsylvania pheasant hunting became a privilege adults could experience only
by purchasing a $26.90 permit, I had serious doubts I'd be buying one.
Yes, I spend as much time as I can trying to put the dog on rabbits, especially in the late season, after at least some deer tags are filled. And, yes, maybe as soon as the late season to come,
two promising pups will be sticking their own noses into all brush we pressure, which only will
result in more and faster action.
Still, I wouldn't expect to take more than a pheasant or two from those efforts. And even after
my lone 2016 ringneck moved from deep freeze to slow cook, and I savored every delicious
morsel, I fully recognized the price per pound far exceeded that of the chicken I usually buy.
But to look only at dollars doesn't make sense.
Even though I brought home just one pheasant, I often was close to others.
The dog hit fresh tracks one afternoon and sent a rooster on a mad dash - almost out of
earshot - until it erupted and streaked back through the treetops, 80 yards off. I marked where it
landed and was able to coax the stubborn beagle to the spot, where she flushed it and I missed.
It might have been the same bird the dog sent away from us on another hunt; and maybe the
same one I heard crowing one morning I came away shocked that neither the dog's nose - nor
my eyes, scanning the upper reaches of every cedar and pine - could find it.
And on the last day of the season, I clearly could hear two roosters - one near and another
hundreds of yards away - inviting us to find them.
In the end, it was obvious: all of this is too good to give up because I'm reluctant to pay a
price far cheaper than a tank of gas - or a bag of dog food - to keep it going.
Considering what it costs to raise these birds, it's probably too small an amount. And considering that, without the Game Commission's century-old pheasant program, we simply wouldn't
have pheasant hunting in Pennsylvania, I'm happy to pay my share.
In trying to talk myself out of buying a permit, I tried to convince myself these chance opportunities at pheasants that punctuate my seasons really don't matter; that I could bump into
pheasants and just not shoot, or stop marching off to locate one that flushes, then lands within sight.
But that hunter isn't me. So I bought the permit, well after I bought my regular hunting
license, and knew right away I got my money's worth. The memories of last season proved that
much to me.

Travis Lau

Pennsylvania Game News - November 2017

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