Goddammit! Day two and I only got one fucking shot on one of South Dakota's "plentiful" pheasant. The sonofabitch jumped up about five feet off my left and I somehow managed to miss. I blame this on the fact that the only pheasant we've seen have been on the road or two hundred freaking yards out in front of us. Dammit! Dammit all to hell! On a side note, Ghost is trying his hardest but I think I'm going to have to send him to a trainer for a month as the bird I missed was neither noticed or chased by Ghost. He sort of scratched his balls, sat on the ground, and missed the bird noisily breaking cover, getting shot at (three fucking shots from the semi-auto!), and bailing out of range into a stand of corn. Poor dog, totally clueless.
Anywho, I hate South Dakota at this point. Most of the area allotted for free hunting is frighteningly denuded corporate farmland or wind-blasted plains with no cover and maybe, maybe a couple of rabbits. It's awful. There are birds but you need to gather an army to work the few fields with cover or you need to live here and shoot them off your back patio without hitting your neighbor. As an out of town shooter this place really blows chunks. Maybe I'll come back early in the season when the crops are still standing but right now both Pops and I are ready to get super ghetto on this place: drive-bys, shooting on fenced off land, maybe even shooting hens! We're depressed and depraved I tells ya.
Speaking of crops: if I ever get enough dough together to build a house I'm putting in enough space to grow my own crops. When you see horizon to horizon, for 360 degrees denuded and devoted solely to one crop it is a sobering sight. The plains have been completely destroyed, there's almost no habitat left for anything larger than a mouse, and it is depressing. Corporatized and mechanized agriculture is bad for the planet and bad for your health. When you see these vast expanses of land given over to monocultures and you see the abandoned, simple little farm houses that were once owned by the families that used to farm substantially smaller parts of this land it kills part of you. It shouldn't be this way. This is madness and can only end in disaster. If there's ever a drought here this whole fucking place will turn into a desert in a fucking heartbeat. They plow edge to edge, leaving almost no anchor for vegetation that might preserve this landscape in the event of natural disaster. The pheasant, and every other animal around here, are as hardcore as can be. They are putting up with some of the most destructive human behavior imaginable and are still plentiful and healthy. The birds live like no other pheasant I've ever seen: hard, crazy, and in hordes they stick tight to any little strip of cover and bedding they can find. You find them thickest where they can't be hunted as there is no real wild cover left around here. Pick an area along the Missouri where there are a lot of houses and you'll find a lot of pheasant. Smart little bastards, they're kicking our asses and I salute them.
As for my fellow humans out here in SD, let me just say you're only redeemed by the little semi-cool eatery we found today: La Minestra. I had some nice veal tortellini in a journeyman's marinara with excellent homemade spicy sausages and an appetizer of garlic shrimp. Pops had the owner's special bolognese and we split a perfect bottle of Cakebread Chardonnay. Not bad, not bad at all. Personally, I was in the mood for dessert so I tried the tiramisu. Not bad, not good but the front of the house was very cordial and genuinely happy about having some exotic out of towners. Or at least that's how they acted. The restaurant is probably the most sophisticated place in town and thus the handful of homosexuals and artists and worldly types began to slowly gather as we slowly ate our meal. I love that even in a small town, the edges always manage to find each other and create a space within which to exist. All hail the human spirit.
Peace out, bitches!
3 comments:
a good piece against agribusiness, cap'n! well done, sir!
Thanks, Ma. I was moved. Were I a better writer... By the way, your MITM snoars like a wildebeest.
i know! he thinks he doesn't!
(choice verification word: rempines...seems appropriate)
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