It was Monday evening and we had just finished some blackened redfish en brochette with chevre. We were leaving Thursday morning to meet Terry Hunt and his gang at the airport to go to Firesteel Creek Lodge on a pheasant hunt.
Anticipating the colder weather, I retired to our hunting closet to begin to put gear together for us. The main thing I wanted to do was get our boots out so we could walk in them for a couple of days before the hunt. I went back into the kitchen to ask Vicki something and she was not there. I called out, “Hey babe, where are you?” She answered, “I’m in the bathroom trying to stop the bleeding!” She had dropped one of our sharp kitchen knives while cleaning up the kitchen and it had neatly sliced open the top of her right index finger.
After getting the bleeding stopped, and a few Band-Aids later, it hit us both at the same time: it was her trigger finger that had been cut. We were both concerned about the trigger finger. Would she be able to shoot on the hunt?
We had planned to go to the range and warm up on Tuesday and Wednesday so we would soon see if she could shoot. One shot confirmed that it was too painful for her to shoot. “No problem,” she said. “I’ll just use my middle finger.”
After about a box of shells, she was right in the groove. Pulling the trigger with her middle finger changed her timing a little, but the biggest disadvantage we found was how difficult it was to push the safety off. Thankfully, her finger got much better by Thursday when we left, but we would have to wait until Friday to see which finger she would be able to use.
Thursday morning we met Terry Hunt at the airport and began our journey to Bismark, North Dakota, and eventually to Firestone Creek Lodge. While waiting for the flight, Terry went over the guest list. We had four father and son groups, over half of whom had either never shot birds or had never shot pheasants before. It looked as if our job of shooting and safety coaches was cut out for us.
I had met Terry Hunt at a gun fitting session earlier this year. During the fitting, I had asked what kind of hunting he was going to do, and he told me he puts a pheasant hunt together every year to introduce people to the hunting experience.
“I mean really hunting pheasants, not just shooting them,” he said. “That’s what I like about Firesteel Creek Lodge. It’s a real hunt. You don’t just walk through a flat field in a line and block.” As the fitting session came to a close, Terry asked if we ever accompanied groups such as his and coach the hunters in the field. The pieces fell into place and we were going on a pheasant hunt in South Dakota.
Firesteel Creek Lodge was a unique experience for both of us, but maybe from a slightly different perspective than most. The hunting experience is not just about the kill; it is about the whole experience. The Lindskov family has an impressive 100,000 plus acres to hunt pheasants, Hungarian partridge, and sharp-tailed grouse. The acreage gives them the ability to make drastic or subtle changes in the hunting terrain to accommodate even the most discriminating hunter. Whether you want gentle rolling grassy prairies, the rugged ridges and creeks of Hells Canyon, or something in between, they can tailor a hunt for a vast array of hunters with varying abilities in almost unlimited terrains and backdrops.
It doesn’t matter how fast you say 100,000 acres. It is still a bunch. And most people have no database to understand how vast an area we are talking about. Maybe this will help: you could hunt five minutes or 60 minutes or more from the lodge and still be on the ranch.
Speaking of the lodge, we would tell you that it is big enough to accommodate but yet small enough to feel like home. As you enter the lodge, you are greeted by Mark, his Dad, Les, and his Mom, Marsha (the boss of all of them). They move among each other in the kitchen, each with a mission and a purpose, preparing a meal that exceeded the anticipation created by the aromas that filtered throughout the main floor. They did all of this while carrying on conversations with an assortment of guests as they flowed through to other parts of the lodge.
The main lodge is a 1916 two-story farmhouse that was moved to the current site. Les figured they would just build a basement and move the house to the site and just spend a little time “fixin’ ‘er up” and she would be ready to go. A couple of years later the “fixin’ ‘er up” stage would be complete. He laughs as he tells the story of “having a finish carpenter here full-time for two and a half years.”
Well, we must say it looks like it in each and every room. It’s not something you see at first glance, but after you are there for a day or so, you begin to see the detail of either the restoration or the new finish work done to match it. It’s not gaudy, but subtle. It feels like home, which is a great plus for people who travel as much as we do.
We are not sure what was best – whether it was the hamburger-sized sausage patties for breakfast, the filet mignon or homegrown ribeyes for dinner, or the sandwiches for lunch in the field. It was all great and it certainly kept all of us going in the pheasant fields. When it is cold and rainy outside, if you are full on the inside you just seem more comfortable, warmer, and maybe not as wet.
Enough about the lodge; let’s get on with the hunting. The good news was that we arrived at the Bismarck airport with all our luggage and guns. The bad news was that the weather we experienced walking to the Suburbans in the parking lot was going to be the best we would see until we returned to Bismarck Sunday evening for an overnight stay in a hotel prior to leaving on an early flight on Monday. We don’t know how much rain fell while we were at the lodge, but it was enough to test even the best boots and rain gear. In fact, that was one of the biggest lessons of the trip for some of the hunters.
This is what we would call a “Gore-Tex” weekend if there ever was one. We were using our standard foul weather gear. With Gore-Tex lined boots, Under Armor layered workout clothes with a Gore-Tex-lined rain suit top and bottom as an outer shell, we stayed dry and comfortable.
Unfortunately for some of the other shooters, pants that weren’t waterproof, boots that leaked, and gloves that were better suited handling a ski pole than a shotgun were the norm. We’re not poking fun, just stating a fact. We make 25 to 30 trips each year, and the first thing we pack is our Gore-Tex rain gear. Even if it is not supposed to rain, it can double as a wind blocker or an outer layer for warmth. We wouldn’t even think of buying any outdoor shoes that are not Gore-Tex lined. Those who had the right gear this weekend had a better time.
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