Rookie bird hunter receives initiation Dedham teen enjoys outing with Cedar Ridge Pheasants

In January, I wrote an article suggesting New Year’s resolutions for sportsmen in 2008. One of my prime objectives was to become more involved with cultivating young anglers and hunters, especially kids who had no family or close relatives to mentor them along the way. I suggested other outdoorsmen also get involved with this beneficial endeavor, particularly with neighborhood youngsters and friends of their own brood who express an interest in camping, canoeing, fishing, shooting, fly tying, decoy carving and other outdoor-oriented pastimes.

Not even a week after the story was published I got an e-mail from Rick Robertson of Greenbush expressing total agreement with my goals concerning shepherding budding young nimrods into Maine’s wonderful wilderness arena. During a follow-up phone call I learned Rick had a lot more to offer than verbal support. It turns out the Robertson family owns and runs Cedar Ridge Pheasants, an upland hunting preserve on a large tract of land just outside of Old Town. If I had a rookie hunter in mind, Rick offered his birds, his dog and his time at no charge for an introductory outing, gunning colorful, long-tailed roosters and hard-flying hens.

Young guns

As it happened I had just the young gun in mind, a teenage lass no less, although she had no idea what was in store for her. Leah Jackson lives in Dedham and as it happens she’s the niece of one of my longtime hunting companions, Buddy Horr, and lives just a short jaunt down the road from him. Having just turned 17 last summer, Leah is a senior at Brewer High School, heavily into sports and extremely athletic. Last year she was the catcher for the school’s state championship softball team and talented enough at roundball to be a varsity basketball starter.

I first met Leah when she visited Aroostook County along with Buddy’s entire family to enjoy a weekend of ATV touring. Her quick smile, adventurous spirit and enthusiasm for the outdoors were engaging. When Bud and his son Brian would return home from gunning trips up north, Leah was full of questions and expected all the details.

With those factors in mind, I suggested Buddy take her target shooting and see how Leah enjoyed that endeavor, but not to mention my ulterior motive just yet. As it turned out, plinking paper targets and cans with a .22 was right up her alley, and a couple of weeks later when a trip to shoot clay targets was mentioned, no recruitment was needed, Leah was first on the list.

Since Buddy owns only 12-gauges, our first-time skeet shooter got no easy break-in with smaller, less abusive shotguns. Thanks to her tall, lanky frame and can-do determination, the long, heavy scattergun proved no obstacle. After the first box of shells, Leah was breaking about one clay pigeon out of six. Before the first shoot was over, she wanted to know when the next outing would be, and less than two weeks later Leah’s average was hitting one in four. By the end of the summer our would-be Annie Oakley was powdering better than 50 percent of the flying discs – unless Uncle Bud got tricky and loaded doubles in the clay bird thrower.

After receiving regular long-distance updates for several months I was encouraged enough with our novice shooter’s progress that I gave Bud the go-ahead to present my offer to Leah. She was surprised, a bit intimidated, and a tad uncertain, just as any neophyte hunter might be. But just as Buddy and I had expected, Leah jumped at the opportunity. I called Rick Robertson, we settled on a date that fit everyone’s schedules and the die was cast. Whether we would end up with a target shooter or a dyed-in-wool “jump ’em up then knock ’em down” wingshooter would only be determined when that first pheasant flushed.

First flush

Cedar Ridge Pheasants offers clients year-around hunts, but Rick agreed with my theory of utilizing real autumn conditions rather than a wet spring day or sweltering summer afternoon. So it was that just a couple of weeks ago, on the first Saturday of October, among vividly colored leaves rustling in a cool, mild breeze, Leah Jackson embarked on her first real hunt. Meeting Rick and his family at their house we got a tour of the hatchery where pheasant, chukar and quail eggs incubate and produce chicks, and then we spent time inspecting the brood coops and finally the huge, net-covered free-flight pens where hundreds of adult birds ran and winged about. We were all mesmerized, especially Leah, and I was pleased to note she was interested and eager to start the hunt.

After a short drive through locked gates to Rick’s large tract of preserve acreage across the road, we parked at a camp and quickly filled out all the necessary paperwork. Saddie, a 2-year-old German shorthair pointer, sprinted out of her travel crate and tore around each of us and up and down nearby trails spending pent-up energy. Cedar Ridge preserve abounds with first- and second- growth trees, bushes of all sizes as well as islands of sparse to thick vegetation, all criss-crossed with a spider web of cut and cleared walking trails.

Earlier in the day the other members of team Robertson, wife Louise and son Bradley, had released eight mature pheasant, split evenly with hens and roosters. Four on one winding blue-ribbon-marked trail for the outbound hunt and the other quartet on a circuitous orange-marked path leading back to camp and our vehicle. Having released birds for several other recent outings, Rick warned us that Saddie would likely point many more pheasant than our eight, but they would be much smarter and wilder specimens. We needed to be ready for a fast-running, hard-flying quarry that might flush out of range or from right under our noses.

We had quite an entourage, Buddy was the photographer, Brian carried the video camera, Rick oversaw dog handling, Leah was primary gunner and I filled the position of backup shooter – just in case. After a quick safety review, just a few basics with Leah, we were ready to go. In the first five minutes I could see that despite her high anticipation and excitement, Leah was very safety-conscious and handled the big 9200 Mossberg semi-auto with constant awareness of location of the muzzle and the position of members of the group.

Once Saddie was unleashed and told to hunt, the lithe and energetic pointer was all business, rapidly exploring cover on both sides of the trail, nose high to scent any well-hidden bird. Leah’s face lit up with enthusiasm as we watched the hardworking dog and it was easy to see her become more and more animated. Suddenly Saddie snapped to attention, stubby tail upright and her entire body seemed to vibrate while frozen on point. We sidled up beside the dog and Leah pushed in front, gun at port arms, tense, ready, alert. But no bird flew up despite her kicking around in the thick grass and brush, so Rick stepped in to help and that’s when the hen exploded in a thunder of wings. Rick dropped to the ground, Leah shouldered her gun and fired, and the bird only flew faster, disappearing among heavy leaves.

I was consoling my young apprentice, explaining that I didn’t even have time for a followup shot myself, when Saddie moved ahead a few steps and a raucous cackle jumped everyone as a gaudy rooster took wing. No one was in position for a shot, nor were we any better off when a third pheasant, another noisy cock bird winged skyward 30 yards away after running to heavier cover. Beleaguered but not beaten we moved on, and I did my best to buoy my young partner’s spirit and offer a couple of hints to quicken her shot attempts.

Not five minutes later, although we had lost sight of Saddie, her collar beeper sounded to indicate another point. Scrambling among the bushes we spotted our bird detector frozen on point. We worked our way forward and caught a flash of red and iridescent green as a rooster broke cover and stood in the open for a couple of seconds. I was very proud of Leah at that point, as previously agreed she made no attempt to bag the bird on the ground, even when it tried to run for it. A couple of seconds later when the rooster flushed, offering a difficult crossing shot, Leah touched off two shells, and despite the range I even popped a primer. Not a feather was ruffled.

When I tried to explain that my late, misguided shot was fired to try and turn the bird so Leah might get another chance, my camera man broke down in laughter. Even Rick made a snide comment and I’m pretty sure the dog gave me a dirty look. At least my young gun partner had the decency to turn away and pretend to be reloading as she snickered. As we hunted on in Saddie’s wake the tension eased, and misses aside, Leah and I were having a ball.

A false point ramped up our adrenaline level again. It turned out the bird was a runner but, not to be fooled, our wonder dog tracked the pheasant to a thick patch of high grass. With Leah right behind Saddie flushed the hen, and with a steady, smooth motion our rookie swung up her shotgun and sent the climbing, fast-escaping pheasant tumbling to earth. This was the moment of truth. Would Leah feel regret and refuse to continue the hunt? We all watched expectantly. When Saddie retrieved Leah’s first game bird to hand there was no hesitation, our neophyte took the bird, smoothed feathers, admired its beauty and gracefully accepted our congratulations.

After a couple of photos Leah placed the pheasant in her game pouch, slid another shell in the gun, grinning from ear to ear, and stated she was ready to find another bird. In fact, over the next couple of hours she and Saddie located four more pleasant, I got one she had no open shot at, and she downed the one after that. Leah missed the next hen due to its sudden alteration from straight flight into a fast climb, but I dumped the bird just as it peaked high over some trees.

The best shot of the entire day was Leah’s last rooster. The wily male kept running ahead of the dog, moving into heavier cover each time a point broke. I stayed behind on the main trail, telling my apprentice she was on her own this time and assuring her there was no need for backup. Finally the long-tailed rooster flushed, swerved in midair and flew right back at Leah. Without hesitation Leah performed an about-face, allowed the fleeing quarry to clear a couple of trees dense with foliage, then made a perfect going away shot that left feathers floating in the air as the bird plummeted.

During our walk back to camp, carrying birds in one hand, our guns in the other, I asked Leah if she’d enjoyed her first hunt, and more importantly, would she like to try again. Her big grin and an enthusiastic “yes” left no doubt to either question. Later on I overheard a few questions regarding Uncle Bud’s duck and goose trips to Aroostook. I’m betting we have a new waterfowler in the making, too. I knew Leah could really shoot a basketball. Now it’s pretty plain this young lady can just plain shoot!

After my great experience at Rick Robertson’s Cedar Ridge Pheasant preserve, I have to say it’s a wonderful spot to initiate any novice wingshooter or even to give field experience to young bird dogs. Rick is a gracious host, an excellent guide and a top-rate dog trainer and handler. Check out his operation at www.cedarridgepheasants.com or call 207-827-4952 or 207-040-7944 to ask questions regarding adult, youth or group outings or to book your own hunt at any time of year. Perhaps we’ll cross paths. Leah says we need to go again soon.

bgravesoutdoors@ainop.com

BILL GRAVES PHOTO

This vividly-colored, long-tailed pheasant rooster paused for a quick look before sprinting into heavy brush and then flushing before two- and four-legged hunters could get into position.