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Waco Whitewing Weekend PDF Print E-mail
Written by Steve Faris   
Monday, 17 September 2007
Whitewings were flying fast over the Waco dove field. Photo by David J. Sams
Whitewings were flying fast over the Waco dove field. Photo by David J. Sams
The first day of dove season had come and gone and I had not been able to even get out of the city limits much less shoot at a dove. So when I received the invitation to hunt near Waco on the second weekend of the season I did not hesitate accepting.

I left directly from the office early Friday afternoon in my GMC Sierra to meet up with my hunting partners at what was billed as a hunting cabin north of Waco. Hunting cabin was an inaccurate and misleading description. On over one hundred acres, nestled on the crest of a hill over looking three nice size ponds and more rolling hills, was more of a house than a “hunting cabin.”

Since we would not hunt until Saturday, I persuaded one of the others to “guide” me around the smaller “fishy” looking pond in a johnboat I had spied on the bank. On the third cast, using a black wooly bugger on a six weight fly rod, and casting just inches off the bank and retrieving like a worm or leach, a bass drove a small wake towards the fly and my line went tight with what felt like a nice fish. Even though the bass did not jump much, it made nice runs numerous times before I could get it to hand.

Saturday morning close to 5:30 A.M. we met our outfitter, Allen Morehouse of Heart of Texas Guided Hunts, along with the other two members of our party, Andy McSwain and his eleven-year-old son Stewart, in a hay field off of Highway 84 north of Bellmead. As Allen gathered all the hunters for an orientation and a recap of Texas law pertaining to hunting dove, I chastised myself for not knowing how to work the coffee maker at the cabin. The aggregate of dove, be it mourning or whitewing in Texas is a limit of 12 daily in the zone we were hunting, with no more than two limits in possession at any given time. We were reminded that we needed to be HIP certified and that hunter education was also required for hunters much younger than me. And make sure our guns were plugged. He divided the thirty or so total hunters and our convoy of vehicles proceeded, surprisingly to me, toward town.

As the sun rose to my left, silhouetting Andy and Stewart, I noticed directly in front of me over a small tank about 900 yards away the light poles of what surely had to be a sports complex. We were hunting very close to town. The whitewings came in waves, but very high and I just could not reach them with the shells I was shooting. Maybe an anti aircraft machine gun would have worked. By the end of the morning hunt I had shot my first whitewing and had two birds in the bag. Stewart had made two incredible shots, something I’m sure made his dad very proud. As we rode back to our vehicles, it seemed that everyone in our party had shot two birds. To me the morning hunt had been a success. I spent quality time with friends, had made new friends, had seen a lot of birds and had gotten back in the rhythm of shooting a shotgun again.



It seems that some of the other hunters were not so pleased. Which begs the questions; is it the outfitter’s fault you can’t shoot; is it his fault the birds fly too high; is it more important to bag a limit or be outdoors?

Steve Faris poses with his first White-winged dove taken near Waco. Photo by David J. Sams
Steve Faris poses with his first White-winged dove taken near Waco. Photo by David J. Sams
The afternoon hunt started the same way with all of the hunters meeting in the same staging field. But this time we were prepared with a cooler full of water and soft drinks, more comfortable chairs and in my case as many boxes of shells I could possibly carry. We headed back to the same acreage we had hunted in the morning, but this time, Ricky Fulton and his son Brandon drove our party to a majestic pecan tree with its branches drooping toward the ground laden with pecans. This was the perfect spot to relax in the shade and await the doves. Ricky indicated the dove would start flying sometime around 5:30 p.m. and would definitely turn off at 7 p.m. So we talked, told old worn out stories and just got to know each other. Brandon was quite the talker and quite the outdoorsman. He will be a great guide someday.

As predicted, the first group of five dove swept in over the tree line about three or four hundred yards to our right and in front of us, like a squadron of fighters. After dropping out of the sky they cruised low to the ground and as they approached our Pecan tree they shot straight up over us. We did not manage to hit any of these birds. But the assault had begun. Over the next forty-five minutes to an hour all in our party managed to fill their limit. Even me. At one point Brandon screamed out asking who had shot the latest bird, exhibiting even more enthusiasm. He let all of us know that he had a “banded” bird in his hand. Unfortunately it was not one of mine. I was surprised at the commotion shooting this bird caused among all the hunters. I did manage to bring down a “Eurasian” dove to my credit. All in all this was a great dove hunt with a few nice bass thrown in for good measure.








Check out our article on Teal Season dates for Texas.

Last Updated ( Wednesday, 03 October 2007 )
 
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