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.
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 ...
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
If you notice his feet you see the spur on the back of his
foot is very small - he is a year old rooster.
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.
A factory farm with and American flag flying defiantly. I saw
many flags flying all over the countryside.
"'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.