There used to be a time in my life when I anxiously awaited for Sep. 1 to come. That’s because it’s the opening day of dove season.
It signals, too, that the fall hunting seasons are not far away.
This coming Sunday is Sep. 1.
Up until several years ago, that date was always marked on my calendar.
It’s not so much now though. Oh, I still look forward to the dove season all right. However, it runs through Oct. 31 and reopens Dec. 1 across the state and stays open up to Dec. 29.
There is still plenty of time to try and shoot doves, I figure, if there are many around this year.
Last Sunday as we drove overtoNorman,Ireminded my wife Pat that this Sunday being Sep. 1 is the start of dove season.
That used to be a date she had etched firmly in her mind.
One, because she knew I’d be dove hunting that day. Secondly, I’m sure she vividly recalls the only time she accompanied me on a dove hunt.
Butsix years ago this Saturday our grandson Liam was born. So his birthday has become the priority for around the same time the dove season opens.
Even before we became engaged, she knew what Sept. 1 meant.
Forty-six years ago that day marked two months we’d been married. Yes, I dove hunted that day on my cousin’s place near Calumet.
I’ve been hunting there since I began tagging along with my late dad at 3½ years old picking up his doves.
Sunday of Labor Day weekend in 1978 came a few days later. I thought I’d go that afternoon, though I didn’t have anyone to go with. I loaded up my gear.
Then I decided to ask her to go with me. I had come up with a great I idea, or so I thought.
Less than enthused, she agreed. When I mentioned she had to change clothes because what she had on might deter the doves, she became even less thrilled, but still resorted to going.
The temperature was nearly 100 degrees. That wasn’t counting the heat index. Good for doves coming to the pond where we sat down. Unfortunately, the knats were out in full force, other bugs were flying around more than the doves were coming in, and a red ant pile was too close for comfort, she thought.
Finally, a few doves began moving our way. This may have been the kicker. Shewasn’ttoofondofguns any way.
As I began shooting, she started covering her ears. As the spent shells from my semi-automatic shotgun ejected, they were hitting her. By this time, she was plum put out.
She was completely miserable. I suggested we quitandheadforhome.She couldn’t help me gather up my gear quickly enough.
Back to the car we went. As we started home, I suggested we stop and eat at what was then the Split-T in Oklahoma City on North Western. Best idea I had all day, she thought.
That was the shortest dove hunt in my life, but by stopping to eat at the Split-T it seemed to make everything ok.