I enjoyed a really great bird hunt last Sunday. You know what they say about Sunday shooting; game is always plentiful and you seldom ever run into another hunter. Yes, I know it’s illegal to hunt wild game on Sundays in Maine, and I’m just pulling your leg a little because there is one loophole. Commercial hunting preserves may be gunned seven days a week and for the sportsmen tied to a job for five or even six days each week, being able to go afield for a few hours on Sunday is a dividend.

Most of Maine’s commercial hunting compounds feature upland birds, particularly the elusive, fast flushing, hard flying species generally not native to the Pine Tree State. Ring- necked pheasant are the most popular, with bobwhite quail and chukka partridge sometimes available to offer variety. Besides an extra day of hunting, these feather farms offer outdoorsmen the opportunity to field train young dogs and get themselves and older dogs in shape. Many two- and four-legged bird hunters take advantage of this option during the summer months leading up to grouse, woodcock, and waterfowl seasons to get scenting and shooting skills fine tuned.

Unpredictable, vividly colored, raucously noisy pheasant draw me to hunting preserves a couple of times each fall. They run hard, then hide and hold in cover so sparse a sparrow should stand out, yet a large, rainbow-feathered, long-tailed cock pheasant is invisible from five feet away. Then when you have waited, scanned, and even kicked the grass with no response, a crowing rooster will headskyward, usually in an unexpected direction, surprising and freezing even the most experienced shooter for a second or two.

I pursue partridge, woodcock, ducks, and geese with regularity, each for a different challenge, and the peculiarities of hunting pheasant keep me devoted to this unique game bird each fall as well. Oh, and the wonderful flavor of a well- prepared meal of pheasant l’orange or pheasant parmesan comes into play as well.

Wing shooting weekend

A couple of weeks ago I fielded a phone call from longtime hunting buddy Jim Stout of Bangor. It seems he and another regular gunning partner, Steve Huff of Lucerne had a free weekend and wanted to set up a bird hunt in the Crown of Maine. I anted up with a dawn goose hunt for Saturday morning, followed by an afternoon duck shoot over decoys on a remote pond. The boys went all in and raised the ante by inviting me on a Sunday morning hunt at the Greenridge Pheasant Farm. No bluffing there, I was in, and it had the makings of a whale of a wing shooting weekend.

John and Nadine Hitchcock began their Greenridge bird hunting preserve 10 years ago, and each year during that decade hunting interest has grown and the Hitchcocks have expanded, upgraded and improved their land, hunting options and amenities. As each year rolled around, more fields have been brush cleared and strip cut to obtain perfect bird cover. As of this autumn, more than a dozen bird fields comprising 80 acres were available, while woods, second-growth fields and farmland made up the rest of the 450-acre tract.

A spacious, well-appointed log cabin overlooking a stocked trout pond is available for visiting hunters, or for folks who just want to get into the forest and enjoy solitude. The cozy cabin sleeps five, has a loft, full kitchen and bathroom facilities, a huge beautiful fireplace and is generator powered. Centrally located in the center of the Presque Isle, Caribou and Fort Fairfield triangle, Greenridge Pheasant Farm provides its own specialty shoots while allowing easy access to plenty of other big game, waterfowl and upland opportunities. Jim and Steve rented the log hunting lodge for the long three-day weekend.

Weekend weather was breezy, fairly cool, and colorful leaves and game birds filled the sky. Our group managed to bag nine geese early Saturday morning over a 60-decoy spread in a cut grain field. Setting up decoys on each end of a secluded duck haven, Jim hunted from a canoe in the reeds while Steve and I spread out among the brush on the far shoreline. Mallards, blacks, teal and wood ducks tracked back and forth as a rouge-smeared sky signaled dusk and the end to our three- gun salute to a great day of waterfowling.

The hunt

Pine Ridge is a plot of land that gets its name from two segments of 12-foot firs that integrate the field. Woods line each end and one side, a cut grain field the fourth, and islands of shrubs polka dot the heavy weeds and grass. Perfect pheasant cover, but tough going for two- and four-legged hunters, but then that’s what gives this particular commercial preserve the realism and challenge of a real mid West wild pheasant shoot.

Dog wrangler Mike Wallace unleashed the 10-year-old grand dame of the outing, and Madie got right to work. She cut left, swung far wide right, then bulldozed through some thick undergrowth between Jim and Steve.

“She’s getting birdy,” Mike warned, “Stay close.”

Snoot down, tail flailing, Madie zigzagged a scent trail through the second growth, and the suddenly froze. “Point”, Mike yelled, and while he moved in to flush the bird, the shooters flanked the dog. The rooster came out low and fast, racing right past Jim, who sped the bird up with the lower barrel of his 20 gauge and ended the escape with his top barrel. Less than five minutes into the hunt and we had a rooster, albeit young and short tailed, a fine start.

We wandered up hill behind the pointer as she scouted about for scent, and suddenly, Madie made an abrupt about face and locked up at a hummock of weeds the size of a dog crate. Mike whoaed the dog and kicked the grass – nothing. He walked through the weedy patch, still nothing. Finally, he flailed about like a clog dancer and a hen came rocketing out and right past Jim again. One barrel, one bird, this time.

Now it was my turn to join Steve on the front line. I was being sporting, using my L.L. Bean 28 gauge over and under, so was pleased to have Steve’s Ruger All Weather 12 ga. O/U as backup or for long-range birds. Madie was ranging far to the left when she caught a scent trail and began tracking. This bird was running and the German shorthair was hot in pursuit. Despite the 70-degree heat and blazing sun, we race walked to keep up, as the dog disappeared into the hedgerow.

Our first indication of a point was when Madie’s beeper began to chirp. Steve and I moved in, but there was only a single shrub surrounded by grass so short it couldn’t possibly hide a pheasant. I waded right in, and was rewarded by a very irate, noisy rooster flushing right into my face. I ducked and tried a pirouette, Mike and Jim hit the dirt, and Steve reversed direction like a drunk on roller skates. My full choke barrel knocked feathers from the fast fleeing pheasant and Steve’s 12 finished the job. It was a long- tailed, fully colored male.

After a short break to water the dog, we worked our way down the other side of the field. One false point and three real points yielded two more birds. Another rooster flushed wild and got away clean as Jim and Steve each tried to change the barrel selector but got the safety instead. Been there, done that!

After a half hour to rest and regroup at the camp, we headed for a field nicknamed Hedge Row. Mike ran Molly on this push and Art Bolduc joined us with his young pointer Katie. Two dogs, no waiting. The younger dogs covered the field like vacuum cleaners, and there wasn’t 10 minutes that passed without a point. Six birds went up, five came back down and were smartly retrieved.

Pheasant flew low and fast, high and straight away, and sometimes even between shooters to confound us and make each chance more challenging. My best shot of the day came with Mike and Jim following Mollie through the pine trees with Steve flanking one side and me on the other. While ranging far ahead, Mollie bumped a pheasant, which cleared the trees and switched on the afterburner. But instead of away, the pheasant flew straight at me over the pines.

I swung the little 28 for a fast passing shot and the bird collapsed like a three-dollar umbrella. Cart wheeling through the trees, it landed within five feet of Jim. I told him I was trying to put it in his game pouch on the fly. He was not amused. We ended the hunt with 11 points, nine birds and an exciting wing-shooting outing.

There are several top rate commercial bird hunting preserves throughout the state. Even if it takes an hour or so to drive to the nearest feather farm, the style, variety and challenge of a pheasant hunt will be a welcome addition to the regular autumn assortment of wild wings. Stir up your fall gunning with a hunt for Maine’s other upland game bird.

Outdoor feature writer Bill Graves can be reached via e-mail at bgravesoutdoors@ainop.com