Everyone has special favorites when it comes to the outdoors. It’ s even more rewarding when you look beyond the front gate.
Reprinted from Dakota Country December 2003
Editor’ s note: If there’ s one thing that made Tony Dean shine, it was his love for sharing the outdoors with people. He was always, it seemed, in the outdoor company of others, often with friends, other times with future friends. He loved sharing everything in the outside world. This special story from more than two decades ago in Dakota Country magazine reflects that trait in this legendary Dakota figure.
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With all due respect to Terry Redlin, who comes closer than any artist I know in duplicating a Dakota sunset, it’ s even more difficult to find words to describe one.
I thought about that as I drove west toward Presho, a small, south-central South Dakota community on I-90 that announces its location with a globe-shaped water tower.
We were headed home from Kimball where my wife Dar, Curt Johnson and I joined Curt’ s nephew Chad Johnson, his brother Darren and a hose of others for the South Dakota pheasant opener.
I looked at that incredible Dakota sunset and thought it the perfect cap to a wonderful day. The hunt was marvelous, one that could only have lasted longer than an hour or so, had every member of the party passed up most of the shots that were presented. There were just too many birds. It was the best season in 40 years.
The first flush was explosive, as about 25 birds erupted from waist-high cover. I swear, 75 percent of them were cocks. It’ s an unnerving experience for a hunter as you zero in on one bird and another crosses the flight path even closer. I can only imagine what it must be like to be a black Lab charged with finding the cripples that have been downed in what must be a veritable maze of scent. Somehow, they sort things out.
Just as that feat amazes me, I wonder what it must be like to be a dog with a good nose. Lord, that scent must be everywhere. Is it any wonder some dogs just lose it and you don’ t see them for an hour. But you know where they’ re at by the rising numbers of birds. Every dog I’ ve ever seen that has pulled that stunt finally returns. I swear that, though they know a chewing-out is coming, they can’ t erase the grin.
My friend Steve Grooms of Minneapolis is a pheasant nut and wrote several books and countless magazine articles about these birds. I believe a piece he did on pheasant dogs was the best lead I’ ve every read in any outdoor article.
“ I would, for one day, love to
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