# Vintage Pheasant Photos



## zig (Aug 5, 2009)

Great photos. Thanks for posting those. I never got to see those day, but my father-in-law talks about them pretty regularly.


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## gonewest (Oct 3, 2014)

The thing that does bring back memories for me also is the brown hunting jacket and brown hunting pants. And the big license holder on your back. I started out wearing the Jones style brown hat. Duck hunted with the same outfit for a long time also.


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## roger15055 (Dec 27, 2011)

It is neat to see those photos and I also remember all the stories from my dad and oldest brother about how they would go to ubley every year for the opener and all the birds they would see and get. In the mid seventies my buddy and my dog and I would get dropped off by metro airport and we would usually get a couple a season. And let's not forget put and take I have some fond memories of that as a teen. Last week I was in hillsdale goose hunting and seen a rooster in a cut cornfield I was so excited I pulled over and was trying to get some photos sad . When I was young all the old timers said it was because of the dtd !! But I have seen crows and skunks and ***** plus cats wipe out out duck nests a lot over the years..


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## gonewest (Oct 3, 2014)

I"ve been down with a cold the last few days and I remembered another opening day pheasant story dad told me. It was either 1957 or 58. They hunted on relative farms in Sandusky. My uncle had come down with the Asianatic flue a week before the opener. They tried to make him stay home but he wouldn't listen. My dad him and two friends took off up Vandyke. My dad said they looked like bank robbers and got a lot of strange looks because they were all wearing bandanas around their face and mouths on the ride up. My uncle made it to the end of the field the first pass and shot a bird. He was so weak they left him there and the plan was to work the other side of the field and go back and get him with the tractor. My dad said as fait would have it they shot 8 birds that pass. They had their limit and one for the farmer. My uncle looked so bad they left and took him home. My dad used to rass him and say he would have shot 10 or more that day if he didn't leave.


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## Hardwoods89 (Oct 8, 2008)

gonewest said:


> I"ve been down with a cold the last few days and I remembered another opening day pheasant story dad told me. It was either 1957 or 58. They hunted on relative farms in Sandusky. My uncle had come down with the Asianatic flue a week before the opener. They tried to make him stay home but he wouldn't listen. My dad him and two friends took off up Vandyke. My dad said they looked like bank robbers and got a lot of strange looks because they were all wearing bandanas around their face and mouths on the ride up. My uncle made it to the end of the field the first pass and shot a bird. He was so weak they left him there and the plan was to work the other side of the field and go back and get him with the tractor. My dad said as fait would have it they shot 8 birds that pass. They had their limit and one for the farmer. My uncle looked so bad they left and took him home. My dad used to rass him and say he would have shot 10 or more that day if he didn't leave.


Thanks for sharing, that's a really cool story; I'm way too young to have seen any last vestiges of the good pheasant hunting years in Michigan but I certainly enjoy hearing old stories like that!


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## gonewest (Oct 3, 2014)

Hardwoods89 said:


> Thanks for sharing, that's a really cool story; I'm way too young to have seen any last vestiges of the good pheasant hunting years in Michigan but I certainly enjoy hearing old stories like that!


You have no idea how much me and my uncles boys loved hearing those stories of pheasant hunting and deer hunting and trout fishing over and over. I really think I could recite most. But we loved to hear them as much as the first time.


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## gonewest (Oct 3, 2014)

Anymore stories??????????


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## gonewest (Oct 3, 2014)

I hate to see this thread go . One more time anymore stories???????


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## Gamekeeper (Oct 9, 2015)

My first pheasant hunt was in Zilwaukee, MI on Consumer's Power Company land in 1962. My Grandfather had a green and yellow Lincoln. The dog rode in the trunk. My Grandparents watched us kids, and my Grandfather always took us hunting and fishing. It's nearly my earliest memory, and that is kinda nice.
My Grandmother held my hand and we walked the ditch for my Grandpa. The weeds were taller than me.
I had to poop, and we had nothing to wipe with. My Grandma gave me an old yellow flannel work glove out of the glove box to wipe with. I still remember dropping a deuce at 18mos old in the middle of the road behind the old Lincoln.
Yellow work gloves still creep me out, but every time I hunt pheasants I am returned to those days, and I am a toddler on my Grandma's arm again.
So as you see, you can start a kid young, and it'll take.


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## gonewest (Oct 3, 2014)

Gamekeeper said:


> My first pheasant hunt was in Zilwaukee, MI on Consumer's Power Company land in 1962. My Grandfather had a green and yellow Lincoln. The dog rode in the trunk. My Grandparents watched us kids, and my Grandfather always took us hunting and fishing. It's nearly my earliest memory, and that is kinda nice.
> My Grandmother held my hand and we walked the ditch for my Grandpa. The weeds were taller than me.
> I had to poop, and we had nothing to wipe with. My Grandma gave me an old yellow flannel work glove out of the glove box to wipe with. I still remember dropping a deuce at 18mos old in the middle of the road behind the old Lincoln.
> Yellow work gloves still creep me out, but every time I hunt pheasants I am returned to those days, and I am a toddler on my Grandma's arm again.
> So as you see, you can start a kid young, and it'll take.


I didn't think we would hear a " BOWEL MOVEMENT" story LOL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


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## Gamekeeper (Oct 9, 2015)

I could have told the one about that damn hound killing all the farmers chickens way out by Burt in'63. 
But that wasn't a happy story.

Take a kid hunting, protect their ears, and pass it along.


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## gonewest (Oct 3, 2014)

Gamekeeper said:


> I could have told the one about that damn hound killing all the farmers chickens way out by Burt in'63.
> But that wasn't a happy story.
> 
> Take a kid hunting, protect their ears, and pass it along.





Gamekeeper said:


> I could have told the one about that damn hound killing all the farmers chickens way out by Burt in'63.
> But that wasn't a happy story.
> 
> Take a kid hunting, protect their ears, and pass it along.


We had a dog that had a bout with a farmers chickens and won but we lost some money paying the farmer back. We did have a pheasant chicken combo dinner as I recall.


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## CVG1 (Jul 15, 2015)

Stories I could tell them all night long I was to young to carry a gun but loved to tag along it was opening day in the afternoon and I was with one of my uncles, there was a total of eight guys working there way across the field when a rooster got up and decided to fly in front of all the hunters from left to right my uncle was on the far right with a single shot 16 the automatics and pump guns were going off and the bird kept flying it made it all the way to my uncle who dropped it with the 16 its still a good laugh you only need one shot is what I STILL HEAR


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## Gamekeeper (Oct 9, 2015)

My brother Tommy dragged me out to "Blower's Woods," (Shi Kid prolly knows the place) in about '66 or '67. Most of the guys were in Viet Nam right then. My job was to bust brush, go down in the ditch, etc. I was hot stuff! My big brother was taking me pheasant hunting!
I had a pretty bad cold. Tommy taught me how to close off one nostril and blast snot gobs out the other in a targeted fashion. Then wipe off on my sweatshirt sleeve. Woo Hoo! The things a big brother can teach you when your a kid.
It wasn't long later when I got sent home from school with a note for my target work.

I ran into a young guy at a DU banquet that still hunts those woods. They are on the back side of Shiawassee.
Small world it is.


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## gonewest (Oct 3, 2014)

Gamekeeper said:


> My brother Tommy dragged me out to "Blower's Woods," (Shi Kid prolly knows the place) in about '66 or '67. Most of the guys were in Viet Nam right then. My job was to bust brush, go down in the ditch, etc. I was hot stuff! My big brother was taking me pheasant hunting!
> I had a pretty bad cold. Tommy taught me how to close off one nostril and blast snot gobs out the other in a targeted fashion. Then wipe off on my sweatshirt sleeve. Woo Hoo! The things a big brother can teach you when your a kid.
> It wasn't long later when I got sent home from school with a note for my target work.
> 
> ...


 Are you saying you were a snot nosed kid ?????


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## Gamekeeper (Oct 9, 2015)

In '68 maybe '69, we had a tree house when Cynthia Myers was the centerfold in Playboy. We guarded that centerfold with our lives. No pheasants were involved though. We charged 2 Chesterfields for a look..
Gramps took us pheasant hunting out behind the Nodular Iron Foundry. A facility long gone.
He shot a bird that had been making a hardscrabble living picking at weed seeds growing in burnt, toxic, foundry sand. My Grandma par-boiled that bird, and attempted to pan-fry it like chicken. I swear to God, before I finished eating one leg, my jaws were so tired my face hurt! Having lived through WW1 , the Depression, and WW2, she took that bird and ground it up with potatoes and onions. First taste of "pheasant hash".

Now, I first smoke, then boil shot up birds to make picked pheasant and soup broth.


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## drwink (Oct 15, 2003)

My earliest memories of Pheasant hunting were seeing my dad come home from his trips when I was to young. He and his friends used to go to the Vassar area and stay in some hotel in the late 50's and early 60's. The lady at the hotel would prepare birds for their dinners. When I got to be about 8 or 9 dad would let me tag along the first year but we went out the other side of Rochester. A friend of his Ralph Reading and his son Ralph Jr. and some others. It was pretty tough following behind walking thorough those fields. Ralph senior own property and a farm he rented out that we hunted on. some of his property he sold so they could build Stoney Creek park the following year so we couldn't hunt that anymore.
That next year I would have been 10 which I was allowed to carry my BB gun and demonstrate I could follow safe gun handling practice. In those days on opening day you had to wait to 10am to start hunting. Waiting for that time I would listen to the stories they told of years past. My dad had an English pointer sent to him by his uncle Waverly in his home state of North Carolina. I have pictures of me and that dog as a toddler but sadly never got to see him hunt. He was so good the guys would all say my dad would call hen or rooster before the bird would fly and he was always right. By the way he pointed dad could tell.
I remember making a pass through a roosting field it would be nothing to put up well over a couple dozen birds. You could look down and see the roosting beds every few steps all over the place, complete with Pheasant droppings. When I was 11 dad got me my first shotgun, a Savage 20 gauge bolt action with a poly choke and a clip that held 2 more shells and one in the chamber if I remember right. At 12 I had earned the right to hunt with a real gun and be one of the guys. That had to be 1967 and I never had to go to school again on October 20th.
We lived in Livonia after my parents moved out of Detroit. I remember dad an I on our own before they built I-275 used to be able to hunt Plymouth and Northville. There was a farm on 6 mile road called Farm Crest we used to hunt and also he had a friend that he worked with at Ford that had a place on North Territorial road and we hunted a lot of places along their just west of Sheldon road. We hunted places along Napier road and 9 mile out to South Lyon. He had another friend from Ford's that had a farm in Maybe along the Raisin River. Dad was a great shot. he had a Remington 16 gauge full choke shotgun but had to shoot left handed because of either a weak eye or eye dominance. He would be able to reach out there and get birds everyone else missed.
We would take weekends and hunt out US 12 from Saline to Jackson. Our next door neighbor at that time was a veterinarian and had family that had farms in the Jackson & Hanover/Horton area. We always saw birds but as time went by not as many and we really had to start working for them. We hunted out to Hillsdale and the Lost Nation game area and did well. I graduated high school in 1973 and of course was driving, and me and a buddy would go out to Pinckney and hunt state lands there and that we could obviously see less birds. That was about the time of Put & Take and we tried some of that but I stated to lose its luster. We would go out to Bald Mountain and Pinckney areas. By the late 70's it was hard to find birds and it might have been around that time I missed my 1st opening day. In those early days there weren't many deer in southern Michigan, sure we would push one out every now and then but everyone mostly went north for deer. Sadly we never really thought about Grouse hunting but I cut my teeth on Pheasants and have a special place in my heart for them.
Every time I see farm fields being tiled and plowed under in the fall, still seeing fence rows being taken out with heavy equipment all the time and no nesting fields. 40 acre fields with fence rows used to be the norm & now its 200+ acre fields and no cover at least in my area.
I have my memories that no one can take away but often wonder what if the DNR was able to make the Sichuan Pheasant their success story instead of the Turkeys that are everywhere and almost a nuisance.

Thanks for the photos they brought back some nice memories, and a few tears. Didn't mean to ramble on.


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## Gamekeeper (Oct 9, 2015)

Ramble on Wink.
I read that in the late '40's, farmers were asking for relief from the pheasant plague. Michigan's harvest was enormous.


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## dbortolani (Mar 11, 2007)

I still remember being 8 or 9, late 1960"s and waiting for my dad to come home after an opening day in the thumb, Memphis, MI and Croswell, MI. He brought home a limit as did all in his hunting party over a couple of seasoned beagles. Low and behold on that weeks edition of Michigan Outdoors, good ole Mort Neff opened the show live from Memphis, MI. When I got to go with the group that weekend, the place was swarming with cars and hunters so we drove right by and went the farm we hunted in Croswell. Gosh I remember having to follow those howling beagles once they hit rooster scent! The last MI rooster I shot was at that same farm in Croswell in 1987 before moving to Columbus, OH a few months later.


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## Waif (Oct 27, 2013)

multibeard said:


> Thanks for the pictures. I forgot how I miss the pheasant hunting days of old. Lots of good old memories from back then.
> 
> It took the DNR a long time to admit the real reason for the failure of the Sichuan pheasant fiasco. All you heard was a lack of habitat especially nesting. LOL What a joke/lie. Ottawa county was covered with fallow fields of grass. What better nesting habitat could you want? Lots of fence rows to go along with the fields.
> 
> ...


In the mid seventies I still saw lots of pheasants.
One brier field had many nests but piles of feathers usually could be found as well.

Everything eats eggs it seems. With chickens it shows and some defense can be mounted through fencing and coop but the pheasants had little defense.
Snakes, *****, possums and the fox were hard on them and in decent numbers despite tolerable prices for their hides.
A dozen roosters a day was not uncommon on the school bus ride in the mid seventies still..
A neighbor a few houses down had an Irish setter that would accompany me through that brier field when I'd sneak off for a smoke..
Each year less nests though I never gunned birds there.
Deer hunting was when many pheasants were jumped.
Three or four roosters together krcack cackeenk and laboring to clear cover is one memorable flush when not hunting them. ....
Those wooded bushy borders and generous fence rows and wind rows were rabbit and pheasant cover when out of the fields and tall grass or cat tails after heavy snows.
Certain manure spread fields saw traffic too.

I wear an old coat for nostalgia sometimes.
Still great shape except for some permanent stains in the game pocket.
Think I paid thirty cents for it , from a widow who hoped it would still hunt a while longer, and it sure did.
Sometimes coming home with some long tail feathers jutting out...


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