Keenesburg
The thing about being an outdoorsman in Colorado, Jim Klibbe was saying from a perch on one of those nifty rotating stools favored by those who have more gear than they know what to do with, is this adversarial relationship with the people who predict weather for a living.
More than most places, those know-it-alls who forecast the climate along the eastern edge of the Rocky Mountains just can’t seem to get it right, Klibbe opined. Or at least not often enough to suit sportsmen for whom meteorological verity often separates success and failure.
Not that the Longmont resident was complaining, you understand. At least not on this special day. In a neat pile beside him lay a limit of doves acquired in far less time than he had any reason to expect. Overhead, a warm sun defined a morning that everyone declared to be the most delightful in recent recollection.
So much for an earlier forecast of rain and cold that seemed likely to doom the 2006 opener to the mental trash can that holds a hunter’s unpleasant memories.
Colorado dove enthusiasts walk a sort of emotional tight rope tethered to late- August cold snaps that send lightly attired birds packing toward winter vacations in temperate places where cold doesn’t seep into their pinfeathers.
All that effort and expense involved in licenses, shotshells, target practice and finding a spot to hunt can be swept away in an ill-timed puff of cool air.
But now Klibbe and his companions had dodged a bullet, much like most of the birds that darted magically between the pellets scattered by hunters who again proved that doves are an ammunition manufacturer’s best sales agents. This challenge, one supposes, is why so many hunters try for them. In Colorado, more people hunt doves than all the other game birds combined. Measured in numbers of shots fired, that ratio goes off the charts.
For a good majority of these nimrods, dove hunting is a one-time deal. We all know the drill: Meet a bunch of friends beneath some cottonwood trees, blaze away for a couple of hours, pluck the birds and then put the shotgun away until next year.
Which is why the weather news for Sept. 1 is such a big deal to so many. The federally mandated season dates extending through Oct. 30 represent the grandest of jokes in Colorado outdoors. Every veteran realizes he’s lucky to steal two full weekends from the storm gods in the northern part of the state.
Savvy hunters also know that a trip to the lower Arkansas River Valley can stretch the fun for a few more days. But anything after that is a once-in-a-decade bonus.
The man who owns the property near Keenesburg where a line of trees forms an alluring backdrop to the dietary essentials of sunflower seeds and water observed that doves had begun congregating in larger flocks in recent days – a sure sign they’re ready to speed south at the slightest provocation.
When that happens, Colorado hunters are advised to switch their attention to a wealth of other sporting fowl. Countless thousands of blue grouse, ptarmigan and chukar never hear a gunshot. Sage grouse, rebounding over much of their northern range, finally are worth a second look. The season for teal, another neglected resource, begins in six days. Several other species receive even less notice.
Even though storm clouds indeed swept across the Front Range later Friday, doves remain the main menu item. But there’s no guarantee that those who missed that unexpectedly delicious opening morning will enjoy anything close to the same fine sport.
You should have been here day before yesterday.
Charlie Meyers can be reached at 303-954-1609 or cmeyers@denverpost.com.
