I know, a "Triple Limit" heading sounds ridiculous when most upland bird hunters never take a daily bag limit, never expect to shoot a daily bag limit and only shoot three species of birds in their lifetime. But they do happen...

It was November 1, and I was trying to decide between hunting pheasants, quail and chickens in Kansas over Thanksgiving, or try to shoot a double limit of pheasants in North Dakota and Minnesota. I still had three days before I had to return to work and my wife convinced me to scout the Minnesota/North Dakota border for a few days to see if the double limit would even be possible. If not, then just go to Kansas.

I literally drove all night to get there and had only three days to hunt. This was an unplanned, spur of the moment, scouting trip/hunt without a contact, maps or even licenses, 100 miles from anywhere I'd ever hunted before.

On November 3, 2010 my female Lab, Miss Bodet, was just seven months old and we were on the North Dakota/South Dakota border for our second day of the trip. I had a once in a lifetime first day, taking a two-bird limit of pheasants in Minnesota in just an hour and then a three bird limit in North Dakota by 1:30 that afternoon! We had enough time left to drive to South Dakota, purchase that out of state license and catch a farmer out doing chores who gave me access to his ground for the next two days!

I had taken the North Dakota/South Dakota double limit many years ago so I really wasn't interested in repeating that but I still had almost 1,000 acres of private in North Dakota that I hadn't walked the day before and faced with a 10:00 am opening in South Dakota I decided to scout more North Dakota acres and be ready to hunt a piece of public in South Dakota at 10:00 am. A farmer had just finished picking the last standing corn in the area that afternoon so I figured the South Dakota CRP Walkin would be my best, first bet.

Well, Bo and I were parked at the Walkin at 9:45 with an unplanned three-rooster North Dakota limit in the bird box. We shared a sloppy PBJ for breakfast and at 10:10 we had our first South Dakota rooster. Ten minutes later I had a treetop Station 8 shot, at a rooster going over my head. I hit him, but he sailed into a small marsh 100 yards behind us.

Bo found that bird where he died and soon after I missed my limit rooster. An at my feet gimme. I don't normally chase birds, but I had never shot a South Dakota/Minnesota double limit of pheasants either and I sure didn't want to miss this opportunity. I figured I had to be on the road to Minnesota by 2:00 pm at the latest.

At the back corner of the Walkin, I saw a farm that just had to be pay to hunt. I've hunted an awful lot of pheasant cover and this was the most perfect ground I'd ever seen. Weedy picked corn, with strips standing, shelter belts and an overgrown pasture with beaver ponds, willows and head-high sunflowers and ragweed in the draws.

I practically ran back to my truck hoping to catch the landowner if he was in for lunch. He just stepped out of the house as I pulled in the drive and within five minutes I had permission to hunt as much as I wanted through the season!

He only had 160 acres and his house was near the center so I parked and started hunting as far from his home as I could. In the overgrown pasture, Bo hadn't gone 100 yards when she flushed a pair of roosters. One shot and we were back at the truck in just a few minutes with six total roosters in the bird box and still barely enough time to try for two in Minnesota.

Two hours later in Minnesota, and we were hunting public that abutted the private I had hunted the day before. It was hard to believe that since just yesterday morning, Bo and I had taken four limits of roosters in three states.

I tried to beat Bo to an outside corner fence, but she pushed a rooster and a few hens out of range. The wind was blowing a steady 20 mph and gusting. The rooster was trying to fly around me on the upwind side and I soon noticed that he was drifting closer. At about 45 yards I lead him a couple feet and hit him too far back, but then I knew where to put the upper barrel and he tumbled dead.

Just one more rooster and 2.5 hours to find him. This had already been the best day of bird hunting I had ever had. Oh, I'd shot seven roosters in one day many years earlier, when I took the Nebraska/Kansas double limit. But today, I had hunted three states in one day. Who ever gets to do that?

There was another public area kitty-corner across the section. At the crossroad, I noticed a farm on the back of the section I had just hunted with several vehicles in the drive. There had to be someone home.

A young man answered the door and I was 99% honest with him. I told him that it was my birthday and I was up from Iowa trying to shoot some pheasants. I said I needed one more bird and I was wondering if he could help me out (all true). He answered, "Sure, theres a gully behind the grove and there are always a few pheasants in there. I'm sure you can get a rooster."

I was nearly ecstatic. Bo and I practically ran again through the woodlot and found the gully. There was very thick tall grass but only a narrow shoulder with very steep banks falling to a creek in the bottom. Well, Bo being a pup was down in the creek chasing frogs and water bugs while I quartered up and down the bank trying to keep my balance. The gully was only about 100 yards long and halfway down a juvenile rooster flushed just behind and above me, heading back toward the woodlot. I was blinded by the sun, and couldn't make out the bird on the periphery so I took two quick shots into the sun. Hey, it could have worked, but I watched him fly unscathed into the trees.

Well, crap. That was my chance and I blew it, with an hour and 50 yards left to hunt. At least I got Bo's attention and she was up on the shoulder working scent. I ran to within 25 yards of the corner fence in case the bird was already there. Bo was hot as could be thrashing around the corner but after perhaps a minute, she failed to flush a bird. I had had roosters run a few yards out of cover into picked beans before and thought that maybe that's what had happened. I was told not to cross any fences so I milled around for a while as Bo gave up on the bird.

I tried the "Rooster Flush Shuffle". You know where you systematically step side to side , one foot against the other, than a length ahead and do it again!? Well that didn't work either. I knew I had less than an hour left and decided to get to the public as quick as I could and I'd maybe have 15 minutes to shoot a rooster. Bo and I were 35 yards from the corner when I heard a rooster cackle, as it flushed behind us. Right out of that corner that I had trampled! He was crossing around us and stayed at 35-40 yards. I shot just as the stock settled into it's pocket and the rooster tumbled into the tall grass on the far corner of the gully.

My seven month old Lab, with seven roosters in the bag, dove down the bank, across the creek and up the far side. Then 30 yards through four foot high grass to the corner. All I could see of her was the black tip of her tail twirling in that tight circle that says, "I got'im him boss!"

Could you possibly be more proud of a pup?