# MN Pheasant opener a family affair



## R y a n (Apr 4, 2005)

Pheasant opener a family affair

Associated Press
Published Sunday, October 29, 2006

WINDOM, Minn. - From the time he was 6, Nathan Foster of St. Paul tagged along on his father's pheasant hunting trips armed with a BB gun and imagination. In the Foster family, the passage into hunting manhood starts with a child's air gun and graduates to a hand-me-down, 20-gauge shotgun.

At 9 a.m. Saturday, Nathan stood next to his father, David, gripping the 20-gauge on the opening of Minnesota's pheasant season. The transference of hunting tradition was about to begin, just as the shotgun this year was handed down to 13-year-old Nate from his brother, Aaron, 15.

When the hunt began on the Timber Lake Waterfowl Production Area, David's fatherly instincts surged to the surface - advice would be plentiful today. "Nate, we have to watch where we're shooting. There are a lot of people out here - if you see orange, don't shoot," David said. Tall, thin and dressed in a new blaze-orange vest, Nate simply nodded his head.










Nathan Foster, 13, of St. Paul, foreground, on Oct. 14 walks a field with his father, David Foster, while hunting during the pheasant opener near Windom. Pheasant hunting is a tradition for the Foster family. 


Like *90,000 other Minnesota pheasant hunters*, Nate was eager to shoot his first rooster pheasant of the season. A half-hour later, David, Nate and David's brother, Tim, flushed their first male pheasant, and after the hunters' cry of "rooster!" the bird tumbled out of the sky with the double crack of father and son shotguns. Foster family high-fives were traded in the tall prairie grass of southwestern Minnesota.

Early this fall, the Department of Natural Resources predicted that southwestern Minnesota would hold more pheasants per mile than any other spot in the state. The DNR also predicted 2006 would be one of the best seasons in 40 years because of another winter of mild temperatures and scant snowfall. Last year, hunters killed 586,000 roosters, the highest number in 40 years, and wildlife managers predict this year will be as good, or perhaps better.

It would explain hunters' above-average turnout Saturday at Timber Lake and other public hunting areas. Nearly every corner and entrance to the state- and federally managed area attracted a group of hunters, who quickly converged on the grasslands once shooting hours began at 9 a.m. The crush of hunters forced a certain amount of jockeying for the best spots.

*"This is nuts," said David Foster. "I've never seen this many hunters out on the opener."*

Pheasants, though, erupted from the grass in sufficient numbers to keep the Fosters' interest. When a hen burst from cattails, Nate raised his shotgun but held his fire, earning his father's praise. Deer loped through the wildlife area, and hawks soared overhead during a day that started cold and windy but was comfortably cooler than previous openers. Last year, it was 85 degrees.









A tired Nathan Foster is joined by Maggie, one of two dogs hunting with the Fosters.

When Tim Foster's young Labrador retriever, General Lee, caught the scent of a pheasant, his owner surged forward several steps, his shotgun ready. A rooster burst from the grass and with a single shot, it fell. Minutes later, Tim killed his second bird and his limit for the day.

Brothers Tim and David have hunted together since the 1970s, David said, and pheasant hunting remains among their strongest outdoors passions. The president of the Washington County Pheasants Forever chapter, David plans several trips to mentor his two sons and another friend's son on the finer points of pheasant hunting this fall.

"We're heading to North Dakota next week," he said. Last week, it was South Dakota for a special youth-only hunt, where pheasants are far more plentiful than in Minnesota.

By noon, Nate still hadn't shot his first Minnesota pheasant, and his enthusiasm waned. "I'm hungry," he complained. A trip to the Subway sandwich shop in Windom and a footlong sub was the cure. "You gotta keep these young guys fueled up," said David, a fifth-grade teacher in Bayport.

The Fosters returned to Timber Lake for a final afternoon hunt, by which time most of the other hunters had gone home. The trio tromped through waist-high grass and shoulder-high cattails, while their two dogs nosed for pheasant scent.

Nate shouldered the 20-gauge a few times, just to practice his swing for a live bird. He looked down the barrel and pointed it at the sky. He imagined a pheasant flushing and the kick of the high-powered pheasant loads. The gun felt good in his hands, he said, adding wistfully, "if only I had a chance to shoot it." Asked his favorite part of pheasant hunting, Nate replied, "Shooting the gun!" "You mean it isn't spending time with your dear old Dad?" David said with a hint of sarcasm.

Nate rolled his eyes, and father and son had a good laugh.


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