Today was the last day to shoot dove until September. The funky weather patterns since Thanksgiving have thrown long-held expectations for the third season out the window (translation: everybody sees birds around, calls a hunt for the next day, shows up and the birds are gone). I've shot a limit on the last day of the season before but I knew when I left the house today that it wasn't in the cards this year. The worst part? This is the first season since I started hunting that I haven't managed a limit of dove. At all. Not even on opening day.And there's something wrong with that. Not with the fact that I didn't get a limit, with the fact that I know I didn't get a limit. This isn't a competition, it's something I supposedly do for enjoyment. You don't get some rodeo-sized belt buckle for shooting limits. Once it's over you get an ounce of boost to your ego and have a serving of satisfaction and that's it. Why not get that satisfaction from something else, and get it every time?
Easier said than done for an analytical type.
The splash of cold water in the face is that it's time to let go of a few things I've held close for many, many years. These things have provided some measure of comfort, most likely through a perception that if I kept track of the numbers I'd maintain control. What gets measured gets done, right? Not necessarily. And not if measuring takes the fun out of it.
I've been pecking away at this since early September and during that time I came across this post on The Drake's website. Bruce Smithhammer hit it pretty solid and while he was talking about fly fishing instead of bird hunting and anger directed toward others instead of toward yourself, he makes his case exceptionally well: never forget that this is about fun.
Somehow, some way, this calls for a shift in consciousness. I don't know how it plays out, but I know it's time. There will always be occasion to celebrate a double and be thankful for a limit, and those limits will come. I haven't completely given up trying to hit birds. And my guess is, for a while anyway, there will still be those nagging numbers in the back of my head. But it's time.
I took a 20 year hiatus from shotgun sports in all but spring turkey hunting in order to keep from spreading myself too thin on the domestic front. With the kids grown, I returned to dove hunting 5 years ago, and I noticed changes. My old dove fanatic cronies had lost hearing in one ear (the lucky ones), had become incredible shots, and there weren't that many barn burner hunts as in years past. My shooting was on par with what it was 20 years ago which is another way of saying I was still a streak shooter ranging from lousy to fair. Attitudes had changed as well. It was no longer everyman for himself on the field; stands were drawn out of a hat. Despite a recent increase in limits from 12 to 15 birds, the field limit was still 12. This helped on future hunts in the same field with more birds left to fly again. How many wounded birds would fly off to die in the pines in order to collect three more? In theory that makes sense once the math is done. Mark, in not limiting out this year, you became a dove conservationist. Wear that label with pride. ;)
ReplyDeleteGil
I won't say I'm proud of that label but I am getting used to it.
DeleteThe numbers game is an awfully slippery slope. I try to avoid it completely in both fishing and hunting. I take the British approach when asked "How'd you do?" or "How many?" - "We had a great day."
ReplyDeleteJust as it should be, every day outside a great one.
DeleteFishless Days, Angling Nights by Sparse Grey Hackle (Alfred W. Miller) wrote a classic trout fishing book wherein not a single fish was caught--or maybe just one 6" fish. As they say, that's why it's called "fishing" and not "catching". Same can be said about "hunting"....
ReplyDeleteInterest concept for a book. Maybe I should pen one and call it "Never a limit, rarely a covey"....that's why they don't call it shooting.
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