Few hunts rival the magic as a continuous stream of late season desert doves twists and turns from the roost to their daily winter feeding grounds. English smooth bores over heat to the touch and pass shooting put your head into a zen state while heated dogs in a frenzy to retrieve search for water and you cap your field day with a chilled beer chased with a warm single malt. This is an addiction that infect my sons and a few special friends. that share our secrets hunting grounds.
Dove shooting is social event akin to ladder fly fishing on Pyramid Lake casting a giant Wooly Bugger to cruising giant Lahonton Cutthroats. These warm desert days, hunting dogs behave like lounging lizards and huge campfires cook chorizo and fried eggs served on a tortilla and fresh made pico de gallo laced with chilanto, those times are as sweet as it get for my family.
This is our twenty third year camping within in the giant washes in Southern Arizona near the Mexican border where I was raised. I would never dream of camping here during the summer monsoon. Each year our camp site is washed away, cleansed by the torrents and we return to a new site. Doves and quail are still plentiful away from the urban dwellers and in the end is it is all about the fine English double guns, well mannered hunting dogs, women who love for their men to go out and return with fresh ki8lled dinner and stars so bright shadows make our kit foxes seem to have colors
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