Campfire Log | Kansas Pheasant Hunting Memories
“Morning Rooster Parley”Speaking Mandarin is not required. Though they hail from China, a hunter doesn’t need any special knowledge of a foreign language or culture to communicate with the ring-neck pheasant.
Quite honestly, the connection between man and fowl is more of a transient, spiritual one. When white-cold icing coats the little bluestem, buffalo-grass and blue grama in the Kansas CRP, and the still, quiet, frozen air holds the grey-pink dawn in a photogenic moment, the rooster shatters the silence with his “kaw kawk!”
The wingshooter smiles as he hears another morning call. He knows the roosters are out there, and they cry their morning call to remind the prairie and hunter that this is their country. Somehow, the hunter senses that the roosters know he’s coming before the cracked brown leather boots slide through the frosty cover.
The hunter whistles softly to his German Shorthaired Pointer and then breathes in the cold scent of earth, the ripe autumn and native grasses.
As the pink dawn turns to purple, blue and orange and the golden sunlight floods the prairie, the hunter understands exactly why the pheasant stakes claim to such a land of beauty. “Kaw kawk!”