Central Kentucky is home to many of the finest traditions including horse racing, bourbon, and upland hunting? You read it right. Kentucky may not be the first place you link to the sounds of pheasants flushing. However, with a bit of luck on the lottery draw and some help from the Kentucky Fish and Wildlife Department you can be shouldering your shotgun in the bluegrass state.
Being allowed to take part in the pheasant hunt this year truly proved to be an experience I won’t quickly forget. Some buddies and I proved to be on lady luck’s side and got drawn for the hunt at the Clay Wildlife Management Area, although only two of us would make it on the trip. Having gone in previous years we knew that it was almost a necessity to have a good dog hunting alongside us. On previous hunts, my buddy Ben’s GSP named Jase was the tried and true dog up for the task. Jase had recently passed away so it was a new dog’s time to shine.
The Hunt
It had been raining all week. On this particular day, it wasn’t. As we pulled into Clay WMA our headlights cut through the darkness only to reveal that we were the fourth vehicle in line. “Gosh dang it!” I thought to myself as we replaced the last car in line. The fourth car means the fourth pick of ridges to walk. Ben put the SUV in park and we heard Sage sigh from her kennel in the back of the SUV.
Sage was a seven-month-old Weimaraner with amber eyes that look eager to see what the next adventure is. Both Ben and I decided before the hunt that even though Sage is young she showed enough promise to warrant going on the hunt. We knew that if any of the birds went down off of the ridge tops and into the dense woods they would be almost impossible to find without the help of a four-legged companion.
“Hunt ‘em up!” Ben commanded excitedly and nervously. The beeping from Sage’s e-collar rushed past me and dove into the thick brush in front of me. Quickly, Sage got the idea and put her nose to the ground attempting to pick up the scent from where the birds had passed through. Almost as soon as her nose hit the ground she was hot on the heels of our long-tailed prey. Sage stayed on the trail only departing to go back to recheck her work, she looked like a dog with plenty of years of experience. After five minutes of watching Sage work in front of us, we stopped seeing the brush move, then the beeping from her collar changed.
Ben and I rushed over to Sage full of excitement. Sage was locked up on a near-perfect point on what would be a beautiful hen pheasant. I kicked some brush out in front of the dog’s nose. No flush? Sage hadn’t moved and was still locked onto the hidden bird in front of her. “Maybe this pup has something to her,” I thought to myself. I kicked at the grass again and hurriedly the hen flushed out of the grass nearly flying into my face. I turned and fired my shotgun, the hen dropped it immediately. Sage took off bounding through the tall grass to retrieve the dead hen. She brought the bird back to us almost as perfectly as she had pointed it. “She shows promise!” I exclaimed to my buddy.
