When the Birds Don't Fly

 I arrived at the dove field an hour and half before legal shooting time so I could have time to observe any flight activity of the resident doves. Three days into the season, I did expect a slow down from the opening day flurry. Even so, during that first half hour or so of observation several dove winged their way across the field with a few setting themselves on high branches of a dead tree along one edge of the field. The potential appeared to be there, at least to a small degree, so I kicked back in a shady spot and relaxed waiting for the legal shooting time to arrive. The longer I waited, the hotter it got and with each passing minute, fewer and fewer dove made themselves known to the point that as shooting time arrived, zero activity subdued any anticipation over the last 45 minutes. 

(KY Dept of Fish and Game photo)

Patiently, I waited, and waited. I even took a walk around the perimeter of the field hoping to jump a bird or two out of the trees. Nothing. I continued to wait and continued to grow more uncomfortable in the growing heat. The birds simply were not flying.

Sometimes that happens even with the best of plans and highest of anticipation. The birds are simply not going to come. I've known some fellow hunters in the past who would have reacted negatively to the situation. Difficult, it is, yes - to remain patient in such a time. Even so, over the years I have experienced enough of these kinds of situations to where I have learned how to adapt to them. Hunting is a lot like fishing in this regard. So many times have I been skunked while fishing, I could easily get discouraged, but there is an important distinction between getting discouraged and remaining upbeat - there is more to fishing than catching fish - and there is more to hunting than bringing a game animal home. 

As it became apparent the birds were not going to fly that day, I spent much of the waiting time enjoying other values.  Across the middle of the field a dozen or more American Goldfinches zipped and darted in and out of the standing millet and sunflowers blending their colorful antics with a myriad of multi-colored butterflies. A few clouds drifted high above shifting their shapes with subtle movements. My attention was redirected toward the distinctive clip-clop of a horse as it trotted down the paved road pulling one of those classic black Amish buggies. 

I found myself being absorbed into the landscape where my senses were intuned with what was happening around me. After a while, I stood to stretch stiff legs, then made a second quick walk around the perimeter of the field hoping to jump a dove or two out of the trees. Along the way, I stopped to cut a few sticks of river cane that grows in abundance near the edge of the creek that cuts along the base of western ridge. I'll use them to make arrows - maybe, at least try to anyway. I jumped no dove on my walk, but just moving around helped to pass the time and gave me a different perspective on the lay of the land.

I returned to my original spot in the shade of a group of sycamore trees and set the shotgun across my lap, then wiped some sweat from my brow. The day was growing hotter by the moment soon to touch base with that dreaded 100+ degree mark - pretty hot for the first week of September. As a result, my shady spot felt all the more cooler. After about 45 minutes with no flying activity, it became apparent the birds were not going to show up, so I decided to pull out and give the day and the field a rest. Although the birds refused to fly, that small little 10 acre field provided a few hours of simply getting away to enjoy what nature did provide.

Once I arrived back at my Jeep and reloaded all my gear inside, I walked to the edge of another field bordering the parking area. Standing there I found a few moments to survey each corner and the lay of the land of that larger field, hoping maybe, just maybe, I might see a dove or two wing their way across  toward where I stood. There were none.

When the birds don't fly does not mean the day is a bust. It simply means the day presented to you other values that in many ways, at the very least, are just as important as to why you came in the first place. When I think about it, maybe, just maybe, those other values were what I was mostly after anyway, and for that reason, my day afield turned into a most successful memory.