Nothing that starts at noon is that serious, and dove hunting is about as casual as hunting gets, but therein lies its beauty. You don’t need much gear, or a sophisticated game plan, all you need to do is find the right kind of field and be prepared to miss. They aren’t actually much faster than ducks, but their flight patterns are more erratic, and they are of course, smaller. Any honest hunter will attest that they are hard to hit, and when you bag one on the wing it’s a good feeling.
Having missed the last couple years, I was resolved to hunt doves this season. Nothing better prepares you for a season of bird hunting like taking a lot of difficult, low-stakes shots from all kinds of angles. Living in the Megalopolis, of course I had to book a spot for the Saturday after opener, which admittedly I did with no problem. I noticed immediately that they had moved the sunflowers, and that it was a much bigger past than there had been in the past. I made my way towards the end.
Pretty far in I was surprised to run into a couple of guys, as there wasn’t anyone else parked in the parking lot, but they let me slide by and post up on the end. I set up my eight mojo clothespin decoys, two flapping wing decoys, and a mojo spinner and found a place to set my bucket and a bit of camo netting I used for sun-cover. All I had to do was wait…
A simple decoy spread does the trick, although the sunflowers are the main attraction, and for the better part of the afternoon, the best you will get are (typically high) passing shots as singles and doubles fly from perching tree to perching tree. Eventually they they start to drop in to the field, and the decoys do seem to draw them near, but they rarely try to land in them.
While I wait I watch the circling vultures, patrolling hawks, and hummingbirds that come bursting through the burned-up sunflowers as if they expected to find them fresh and tall before blasting off over the tree-line. These are the intimate moments that make time afield worthwhile. You never know when they will come or what form they will take, but it’s hard to forget the feeling of wonder they impart.
… but eventually I had to get serious about my shooting, or I was at risk of taking things so casually as to come back a bum, and eventually the birds started flying down and into the sunflowers. In the end I think I took four that deked, one that was flushing, and two pass shots, of which I lost one, for half a dozen birds total. A modest bag, but enough for an appetizer of roasted-garlic dove poppers, and it’s hard to overstate how fun it is to be out there in 80 degree weather, blasting.
