We started out checking the old spots right at the crack of daylight. This one is a housing development, that one is a factory. Here's one - no it's now a shopping mall. Houses and more houses. One spot on the Eastern most part of Long Island still had the cover on the perimeter, but the front field was a school bus depot. Bugging the guard about our woes must have lit up the last remaining Christmas spirit in him. The depot was closed. He told us, "I'll give you a half hour, and don't go near the buses or shoot towards them".
We turned loosed Knuckles, the German Shorthair to hunt and seek the elusvive wild ringneck - cocks only in this area. Maggie, the Lab stayed at heel in case any difficult flushing or retrieving were needed. In the old days, we would have got a half dozen birds in a half hour. Now we were on the last 5 minutes before we pushed our luck with the Guard and had not even had a hint of a bird. Just when we declared defeat, Knuckles became a statue! It was a very thick tangle with some small hills. I sent Maggie in to see what the sweet smell was all about.
Cackle, Cackle, Cackle - one "Hello" for each of us the rooster yelled on his way over the treetops. Chris shot and missed like usual. I shot and Mr. Rooster started his decent back to earth on his last breath. Dave did not want to be left out, and he did not want this special bird to get away so he gave it an extra love tap with an ounce of 6's on its way down.
Maggie retrieved the bird in perfect fashion and sat by my side waiting for me to take it from her mouth. Knuckles waited for the tap on the head that would release her from the statuesque state she was in. I tapped Knuckles and then went back to Maggie and took the bird. Chris, Dave and I passed it around between us. We didn't say anything and we began our walk back to the car. Not a word was spoken for what seemed like hours. Finally, Dave declared lunch was "on him" and we headed for the diner. We talked about the way it used to be and how we hope it will be. Only next time there probably won't be any wild pheasant to hunt on Long Island. No matter - we will be in another state. Plane flights will bring us together instead of car rides.
Change is good. It doesn't feel that way now, but I hope so......
Chris on the left, Dave on the right. I'm behind the camera.
![Image](http://i108.photobucket.com/albums/n5/TARJARBAR/pheasanthuntDaveandChris.jpg)