I left home about 6 a.m. to drive down to Iowa to hunt. You can hunt an
hour earlier in Iowa than Minnesota - I have licenses to hunt in both
states. Last night was Halloween. Here is what remains of the first
full moon on a Halloween in 46 years. There won't be another for
twenty more years. It was also a "blue moon" - the second full moon
in October 2001. This was taken near Faribault, Minnesota.
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As soon as it was legal to hunt I got off the interstate and
found this spot to walk. The harvest is very late this year.
Note the standing corn on both sides of this creek/drainage ditch.
This is not the greatest spot to find pheasants this time of
year, but my back is killing me and I have to get out and
walk. I saw several field mice on my walk. Once again, there
is my shadow in the foreground. Think of it as an Alfred
Hitchcock-like appearance, something planned ...
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I decided to get back on the interstate and go down one more
exit, most likely that will be about 10 miles. I found my way
to the interstate and was confronted by these giant electricity
generating windmills. I counted about four dozen.
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How long has this item been sitting in this alfalfa field? It
can't be for decoration, nor does it look like it is in working
condition. It makes for a good picture, even if I can't imagine
why it is here. I can't see a farmer just letting it set out here
for eighty years.
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Just down the road we have this. I walked out to see if it
was an abandoned pump/well of a farmhouse or the pump mechanism
from a windmill. Windmill. This was a bean field. Most of
the bean fields seemed to have been picked already, only about
half of the corn fields half been picked. Usually about 90%
of the corn is out this time of year.
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I walked down this track and went wide to the left when I
came to the trees and thickets you see in the distance. Note
the yellow signal light visible when you enlarge this picture. I
had been hearing a train whistle for some minutes. I was way
out wide left when a 100 car two engine fast freight rumbled
by. I figured that would flush any pheasants in the railroad
right of way and maybe a rooster would fly over and land by
me. No such luck. I had to cross a small stream and
made my way to the base of the raised roadbed.
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With some effort and winded from my walk, I climbed the
steep side of the railroad roadbed and stood between the tracks.
I figured this hunt was over. Suddenly, two hens flushed. Then
another hen flushed. Then I heard the cackle of a rooster. Excited
and rushed, I fired once and didn't even aim. It was a swing
shot, so I forced my cheek down on the stock, swung from right
to left and pulled the trigger as I passed him. He fell and
landed dead in a picked soybean field. Here is the rooster and
my grandfathers's/father's model 12 twelve gauge shotgun. The wind
is blowing his feathers.
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If you notice his feet you see the spur on the back of his
foot is very small - he is a year old rooster.
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Look at the purple color on his breast. Notice the powder blue
feathers on his rump. All last year I passed on shots because
I thought a rooster was a hen - for some reason some roosters
(because of the light) would look brown to me so I would hold
my fire. Now, aside from a cackle that only roosters make, I
look at the tail. This guy's long tail almost looked elastic
as it crazily swayed back and forth as he flew.
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A factory farm with and American flag flying defiantly. I saw
many flags flying all over the countryside.
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"'Ya 'lookin fer pheasants, city fella? Well sir, you go south
'outta town until you hit the first stop sign. Turn right, and
most live along Pheasant Avenue ..."
Actually, I saw no pheasants on Pheasant Avenue.
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