Right - Me & my dog Tabby on opening morning.

Steady flights of 20-60 birds poured in for 3 hours.

Our lastest dove hunting trip was this past September 1, 2003. And since we had hunted in the same area the previous year, we knew we were in for one hell of a shoot.

Our guide was Steve Wilson, a guy who knows his stuff when it comes to finding birds for his hunters.

When you're hunting near San Antonio, you're talking white-winged doves, and they are a sight to see ever since their local population has topped the 2 million mark.

Just one of many of the flocks we saw after our limits were in the bag.

Dove hunter's paradise.

What a difference 15 years makes eh? What used to be one of my greatest challenges, (wing shooting), has become one of my greatest achievements. After putting in so much time, effort and spent shells through my gun, I'm almost as good as I "thought" I used to be, which was pretty good. I just hope I never have to relearn it ever again.

Getting back to the hunt, we opened another "first" morning near San Antonio under overcast skies, which was a blessed relief from the high 90s we'd had all summer long.

My dad & I, along with 4 of our closest friends, eagerly waited in a cornfield about 10 miles west of the city. At about 8am, we could see tiny clouds of little grey forms slowly flowing toward us. Sporadic barrages rang out across the countryside as they got closer, causing each mass of birds to sway and dip slightly as they stubbornly stayed on course. The volley grew louder with every passing moment, and each time a few single birds dropped from the sky as our anticipation peaked.

In moments, they were bearing down on our line as we raised our gun barrells to meet their approach. Several shots blasted upward as the first wave of white wings clashed with our heavy dove load #7.5's. Some folded up tight and a couple glided down into the corn stubble as my dog Tabby locked on one of the downed birds. She turned so she'd be ready to bolt on my command. I called and she tore off with enough enthusiasm to carry her all morning.

Huge flocks poured in, one after the other, for 2 hours. Shotgun reports followed each forray, echoing in and around our position. Which we've come to expect to be the norm for a dove hunt near San Antone. Needless to say, Tabby saw plenty of good action.

We were done by 9, but the kept funnelling in while we picked birds on the side of the field in the shade of some big pecan trees. What a beautiful sight to behold. I already can't wait 'til next year.