Bird fever hits, raising questions about etiquette, safety

Sometimes bird fever can hit at strange times.

I'm convinced wingbeats make brainwaves behave improperly. I've been guilty of doing stupid things in pursuit of great shots and great meals. So when it happened last weekend, I didn't let it bother me.

Pete had been chomping at the bit to get out and bag a duck and nature finally obliged, setting him up with an easy shot on a beautiful day.

We were in the field with a friend of mine, Kris Koch, who had come from Missoula to look for some birds over the weekend.

When Pete, Kris and I finally got going it was around noon (copy editors don't wake up very early) on Saturday, and I was convinced the ducks had already taken off to look for different food sources. When we first approached the small creek where I've spotted countless ducks, there was no sign. No surprise, mallards usually don't move into the small water until the lakes freeze over.

We crossed the creek and walked along an irrigation ditch, checking periodically to see if there were any clusters sitting in the shallow water. I took up the rear, holding my parents' dog Witchy at heel while Kris and Pete did 90-degree sneaks up to the edge of the ditch, with Pete about 25 feet to Kris' left side.

We didn't see anything, even when looking down the length of the bank and I figured our day, short as it was, had ended.

I, in terrible hunter/dog handler behavior, turned my attention to my cell phone. As soon as I started pressing keys, two shots rang out, waking me from my text-coma.

Witchy broke on the shot, something she knows not to do, but something I wasn't ready for. Again, not my best moment in a bird hunt. Both Kris and Pete bagged drakes, each with one clean shot. Witchy was back in no time with Pete's bird, happy as can be. I lined her up on the bird Kris shot, and after some directions, she found and retrieved the fat greenhead. Both ducks were nice, mature birds with brilliant coloring in their feathers.

The three of us walked back, all smiles. Pete had his first bird. Now the easy part: cooking it.

Bird fever hits, raising questions about etiquette, safety

First, I taught him how to shave the tender mallard breasts away from the ribcage. It's a fairly easy procedure, but easier if someone takes the time to teach it.

Pete later used one of the recipes he got from a reader submission, and from what I hear, he loved it. Enjoying the taste is key to a new hunter, since there's no real point to hunting if it's just to kill. That, to me, is just shooting.

On Sunday Kris and I went out to the same spot, this time with my dog Strider. Normally I discourage hunting ducks twice in one area on back-to-back days, but having Kris in town made it a special occasion.

Sure enough, we kicked up a duck in the same exact spot. The duck flew up on our left side, my side, and I raised my gun as soon as I heard wings flapping.

I switched off my safety, but just as I was about to pull the trigger, I heard the shot that put the duck down. Kris had gotten impatient and shot past me.

Needless to say, I wasn't thrilled with the situation. It surprised me so much I didn't even pay attention to Strider, who broke as soon as a shot was fired and fetched the bird as fast as he could.

I let Kris know how I felt with a series of expletives and loud noises. He understood right away what he'd done, and he clearly felt bad. He offered me the duck, though I refused on principle alone.

I think Kris learned a lesson. When in the field, hunters have certain quadrants in the sky. In this case, I had the left, Kris the right, and the middle area would be up for grabs. Kris had overstepped his bounds, killing a duck that was obviously mine for the taking.

Luckily, good friends can put small things behind them quickly, and by the time we returned, everything was back to normal.

Pete learned a lesson, too, just from hearing the story. Knowing where you're supposed to shoot is important, if not for safety, then for a fair and balanced hunt.

So now we're looking forward again to our next hunt. We're planning to head out to a real pheasant spot, something we've gotten some leads on since our first column. Once Pete gets hooked on the wily ringnecks, I'm afraid he's going to trade in his little Yorkshire terrier for a Chesapeake Bay retriever. It wouldn't be that amazing. Bird hunting makes people crazy. I've seen the fever hit before, and I'll be amazed if I don't see it again.

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