The gun was a '64 Superposed, the dog was Critter, and the hunt was ass backwards.

For a year I had planned to attempt a limit of sharptails, pheasants, a fall turkey and ducks in a single day. Judging from several days hunting the area the previous season, this wasn't wishful thinking. I could easily have taken this one-day, quad limit on that trip. I easily took the combination limit of pheasants and sharptails, with hours to spare, four days in a row. I flushed hundreds of mallards and pintails from various potholes each day, and marked a flock of 60+ turkey carrying on their daily routine on public land, across the road from my campsite each mourning and evening. And I didn't see a single fellow hunter or hear a gunshot for the entire week.

With all of the non-resident permits in hand, and expectation beyond belief, I realized the vagaries of western water. There was none. All of the potholes an sloughs were dry and obviously void of ducks. I didn't see a turkey for four days and although I routinely limited out on pheasants and sharptails, neither were as numerous as the year before. But then, again, I didn't see any fellow hunters or hear a gunshot for the week.

I had nearly given up on even taking a triple limit of phez, sharps and turkey when I finally located a small flock of Merriams turkey while coyote calling on the fourth evening.

(to be continued)