Beat the heat, but get beaten by doves

The way I figured it, I had two choices on the opening day of dove season last weekend, either an afternoon hunt when a heat advisory had been issued, or a cooler morning hunt leaving plenty of time for football. I wimped out, and accepted one of my invitations to a morning hunt. I chose poorly.

In fields left extremely puddled and muddy by Hurricane Isaac, doves were reluctant to feed on the beautiful sunflower rows. Blackbirds and other species came to gorge but doves had other plans.

With about 35 hunters scattered among several replanted “abandoned” catfish ponds, gunshots were sporadic. There were no hotspots. It was just as slow as slow gets.

“I’m blaming Isaac,” said hunt host Jacob Sartain, who had worked hard all summer preparing the fields at his Isola camp. “Before it came through, we had thousands of birds hitting these sunflowers in the mornings and afternoons.

“But with all that rain, and we only got between an inch or two, that all changed. Doves do not like to get muddy. They don’t like it at all, and as you can tell from the 5 pounds of mud you got on each boot, it’s really, really muddy.”

He wasn’t exaggerating. My boots felt like lead, and each one was caked in the gumbo mud that apparently doves don’t like.

Cooler? Shoot, any advantage we had with that was lost to the humidity, which was worsened by the steam rising off the puddled water and by walking around in lead boots. I wouldn’t have been any wetter had it rained, hard.

I had shot five shells, and had killed two birds. Few hunters did any better.

It was on the drive out of the camp, at 10 a.m., on gravel roads, that I truly realized my error. Doves were lining the roads. Some perched overhead on power lines, but more were in the roads “graveling.”

Graveling is what I call it when doves pick up tiny rocks and swallow them to the gizzard, where they are used to help grind up the seeds and grain they will eat later.

And, boy, did they eat.

Later, despite the heat.

Phone calls to several friends who had chosen the afternoon hunt option didn’t make me feel any better.

“Got the limit. Started at noon and was back at the truck by 1:15,” said my buddy Pete, who hunted about two miles east of where I hunted in Isola.

“Limited out and still made the 2:30 kickoff for the Southern Miss game, with my birds already cleaned,” said my buddy Joe, who hunted at Canton.

“Started at 2, was done by 4 and one son and I got the limit and the younger son got all he wanted,” said Keith, who hunted south near Port Gibson.

All three said it was unbelievably hot, but that it was worth the temperature to get that kind of action.

Lesson learned. On Monday, I chose an afternoon hunt. Boy, was it hot. I sat in the shade and watched a bunch of dads with young sons have a ball. That was fun.

This weekend? Are you kidding me?

I can watch the Mississippi State and Auburn game at 11:30 a.m. and make it to the field in time for a good afternoon hunt.

And the forecast is for the mid 80s.

Cool. I’m down with that.