As the sun slid inexorably toward the horizon to conclude Colorado’s season for pheasant and quail, enthusiasts joined in a chorus of praise for what most believed to be the best hunt in recent recollection.
An activity that began amid glorious November sunshine and ended with howling January wind boasted a sharp increase in populations over much of the state.
Hunters found birds in places where none had been known before and lots more right where they were supposed to be.
Those who ventured onto the eastern plains with some degree of regularity told the usual stories of hit or miss. But they almost always returned with a melody about spotting surprising numbers of birds.
As this joyous process neared its end, some even hummed little ditties about the delicious prospects of next year. If upland bird numbers are good now, they reasoned, just think what might happen with the continuation of an agreeable winter coupled with another strong hatch. Times such as these, it’s not unusual to hear talk about a return to the good old days when a pheasant lurked behind every cornstalk, or so it seemed.
But while we’re singing, it behooves us to hold on to one sobering thought: Take nothing for granted.
These good moments will not, can not last. It’s entirely possible, given enough moisture to pull off a successful wheat crop and grow good weed cover, that Colorado might produce an even more abundant harvest of pheasants during 2006-07. Certainly it’s a thought to hold dear until someone says differently.
But don’t dare expect the bounty to continue indefinitely. The vicissitudes of weather, coupled with prevailing clean-farming practices, always turn pheasant season into a sort of far-flung crap shoot. Hail and cold, coupled with either too much or too little moisture, pose a constant threat to populations of upland birds.
Too many things can, and will go wrong. You can keep the dice rolling for a time, but snake eyes pop up sooner or later.
We need glance no further than the late November blizzard that swept through the Dakotas and down into central Kansas and Nebraska. Following a depressed half- decade of drought, the heart of the plains had received ample, if not abundant, moisture.
Crops flourished; pheasant and quail rebounded in dramatic fashion. Then, even more suddenly, many were buried beneath drifts taller than horses.
In the prime areas around McCook, Neb., a particular point of recovery, local hunters estimated half the pheasants and a preponderance of quail were lost. Nature giveth and taketh.
Last weekend, as the calendar slid shut on the Colorado season, a group of hunters, unwilling to let go, marched through grass and grain in the country around Walsh in an almost desperate attempt to squeeze the last drop from what had been a fine year.
As expected, birds were wily and wild, flushing at the outer limits of shooting range and beyond. The wind blew; marches grew longer; frustration often won the duel with success.
But it had been a grand season and they were there to witness the end of it. Someday they might see the likes of it again.
Listen to Charlie Meyers at 9 a.m. each Saturday on “The Fan Outdoors,” radio KKFN 950 AM. He can be reached at 303-820-1609 or cmeyers@denverpost.com.
