Ed note: Along Maplewild SW at around 160th a beautiful male  China Pheasant seems to have taken up a home. He's not all that concerned about passing cars as he pecks his way through the brush looking possibly for grubs or some other tidbit.

I've seen him several times but never soon enough or my being ready enough to shoot a picture. Last week it all changed when I got this shot of him preening along the pedestrian right of way. I only shoot with a camera these days but it did remind me of an event many years ago when I thought I was capable of more daring deeds. Read on....

Below the clear October skies over Wenatchee the corn stubble cracked beneath my boots at every step. My shotgun fully prepared to bring down my first game bird. My Mcmicken Heights buddy Ciff Goodman sidled along nearby. He had shot lots of ducks and other game birds.

I had son Tim's little cocker spaniel. I had rented Richard Tiger for the weekend, for a quarter. He too was ready for the sudden flutter of wings.
      
Richard was useless. He was too short to leap over a row of beets and spent his time trailing behind me. 

Cliff was a consummate hunter instructing me to keep the safety on and the muzzle pointed low. I follow instructions as well as anyone but somehow when the birds take to flight I fumble around, my thick fingers too slow to even get off a shot. Not wanting to be skunked and suffer the subsequent embarrassment I cleverly  slipped the safety off while continuing to obey the first rule of gun control, point the gun down. I don't really know how it happened. My mom always said I was a fidgety kid. 

 Somehow my finger managed to gravitate to the trigger like a goat to grass. BOOM!, my rifle fired into a thick stand of corn stubble. A hole the size of a basketball sent soil and stubble flying up and out, right towards Cliff. I was about to apologize when he shouted, "did you get anything, you missed me!"

 I tried to explain that it was an accidental 12-gage experience but I chickened out. I told him the bird was right in front of me, had great color and I was afraid I'd miss him if I didn't try to ground sluice him right there. I know it is not fair and the unofficial hunter's rule book says you gotta let 'em fly first. Cliff was disgusted as he brushed  bits of dirt from his eyebrows.

He did offer some advice in the process. Maybe fishing was more to my liking as hunting takes wits and good athletic reactions. Since I possess little of the first and none of the second I was willing to take his advice."Let me do the shooting," he said.

 It worked out just fine. I've never killed a pheasant yet.