中國海專校友集結處

[This is a translation of blog/%E8%94%A1%E8%87%AA%E5%AF%8C/index_b-38.html for the benefit of Paul who can't read Chinese.]

I roamed Bolton Flags WMA for 2 hours yesterday (Oct-20-2009) and encountered nothing. Got a call from Paul around noontime so I went again in the PM.

Not very far into the field, Paul delivered lessons of the day: “Don’t sling the gun on the back nor lay it on the shoulder! You are here to hunt, so be prepared when opportunity presents itself.”

Well, it is easier said than done. Holding an 8lb shotgun around through the woods and bushes for hours is very tiring, to say the least.

“Paul, I’ve been thinking about going to the hunting camps where there are infinite number of easy pheasants for me.”
“Well, then it is not hunting any more, it is shooting!”
“Yes you are right. But it is hard on the morale when after a hard day’s work, there is nothing to show for.”

So Paul got me walking 50ft on the side. We not only covered more area, but I also got to shoot if conditions were right. Whenever Linus went on-point, Paul would suggest a spot for me to get ready on. I had a couple of chances but only fired once.

Linus is hardworking and honest but when there was no pheasant he wouldn’t be able to flush one out. So we went back to woodcock hunting mode and traversed along more or less the same path as we first met.

Neither woodcock nor pheasant is good flier. They fly a bit and then stop. My 2nd lesson of the day was to visually follow the bird all-the-way until it lands, whether a good hit is scored or not. The rationale is simple, in their habitat, birds are very easy to blend in to the surroundings. Once they land, they merge into the environment and it is very difficult to find them visually. So it is useless to know just the general direction of the flight.

Paul seems to be around 75 years old, and yet he has a fast pace and does not get tired holding the gun for 2 hours. Returned to parking lot we chatted more and then part ways.

Today’s (Oct-21-2009) schedule was fishing first and hunting second. I thought the pheasant truck would come in the PM, so I had plenty of time to fish. And when it did, I’d switch into hunting mode.

Around 10:30AM, I walked along the Still River and tried my luck in fishing. Within 5 min I caught a small Pike roughly 12”. Pike is the tiger of fresh water ecology. It has very sharp teeth. I know ‘cause my thumb slipped into the mouth of one, got chewed on, and lost a lot of blood in my “early fishing career”. So I took the Pike off cautiously and threw it back.

Fished a bit more I started to hear gunshots, more and more of them. Must have been 25 to 30 shots within a short period. Finally it lead to one conclusion – “The pheasants are here!” So I hurried over to an open grassland area that appeared to have nobody else around. “I can’t compete with those who have dogs.” I spoke to myself.

Suddenly, I saw the tall grass in front wavering as if something clumsy was rushing through underneath. That’s when I started to get nervous.
“It’s been days since I started hunting and still got nothing to show. Will I be able to cease the opportunity?” “Does my wing shooting skill good enough?”

As I cautiously got closer, my "buddy" in the bushes sensed the danger and suddenly changed its direction. So I picked up my pace to match. In a few more steps, a cock suddenly fluttered its wings and rise up into the sky from 10 yd away.

Pheasant is larger than most birds and its climbing speed is rather limited. With an almost reflective motion, my shotgun barrel caught up with the bird and shot was fired. That pheasant acted as if it was hit by lightening. It fluttered the wings hopelessly, rolled side to side twice before falling down to the ground. I hurried over wondering whether I had hurt it enough. Would it fly away or run away?

The bird faced down with the eyes close shut. Wings flapping and the back pushing upwards as if to get up, but the struggle was futile and short. Within 10 seconds the chaos ceased and the fight was lost. The bird expired under my sorrowful watch. So there it was, the first pheasant I hunted with my own gun. What a colorful plumage! I felt sorry and satisfied in the same time as I took its photo.

With one pheasant in my backpack, I decided it was a success. I’d have story to tell already. So I decided to do a bit more fishing in Nashua River. Within 5 min I got a white fish that I have never seen before. Stayed the same spot for 10 more min. produced nothing so I packed up and started moving again.

I wanted to go south to the pheasant release location just to see it for myself. But the...

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