Gary Greene's Memories from an Old Hunter...#16
Over the past twenty years, one of my pheasant hunting partners Jim has become more than a hunting associate, he has become an exceptional friend. We first met when our sons played fifth grade basketball against each other and since then, we have been pushing pheasants, pursuing waterfowl and doing what friends do. As an adult, Jim started as a near anti-hunter and has come about as full circle as someone can come as a hunter. A colleague got him interested in archery and it has progressed to bird hunting, dog training and occasionally big game hunting.
Jim’s first dog Riley was a beast of a yellow lab, one of those muscular 100+ pound yellow Labrador males. He was a steam roller hunting machine. Nothing stopped his progress in the field, not even my yellow lab Libby. Old Libby got plowed over numerous times as if she were just a blade of switchgrass and I signaled clip, when Riley also took me down from behind as he tirelessly pursued those enemy pheasants.
I left our hunt and retrieved the truck when Riley had his first seizure in the field. I was there when Jim lead Riley through the most awful, cold hunting conditions we have ever experienced. Against the wind, Jim hunted backwards. I had never seen that before or since.
Another time, Jim graciously suggested we hunt for the first time with a mutual acquaintance and his lab. After that double digit pheasant club hunt, we felt badly that the other guy’s dog only flushed and retrieved one bird and our dogs cleaned up the rest. Just days after that hunt, a third party came to us and he elaborately relayed that he heard our dogs weren’t any good and our “Friend’s” dog had just out hunted Libby and Riley. We have never hunted with that man again. One of my favorite and most regularly repeated old sayings is: “You can say bad things about me, but never verbally attack my dog.” I wholeheartedly stand by that statement.
I was on the other end of the phone, when Jim called to tearfully tell me that Riley had to be put down. Through those tears, he expressed to me that he knew I would realize how he felt losing his dog and with shared tears of my own, I understood. Most hunters have that special bond with their hunting dogs that reach beyond the normal dog owner. Jim had that with Riley and with his current dog Beau (5).
Jim Wick (Left) and his dog Riley and author Gary Greene with his Libby. (2001)
When my matriarch chocolate lab Hershey (10) had a litter, Jim put dibs in on a yellow male. From that nine pup litter, Jim selected his dog Beau. I gave Jim a healthy break on the purchase price of that pup, but with tongue in cheek, I questioned what Jim’s friendship was worth. Jim now belongs to a retriever dog training club as he thoroughly enjoys working his Beau through the progression of those retrieving skills. From that same litter, I kept two blacks, Nyjer (5) and Elsie (5). When Jim and I hunt together it becomes a dog family affair with his Beau, my two blacks, Grandma Hershey and Elsie’s son Schmiddy (2). When hunting partner Jesse joins us with his two blacks Nellie (7) and Abbie (5), he brings into the mix another two of Hershey’s offspring. The result being, we have seven related dogs sprawled out in those pheasant fields. That hunt can be a little chaotic but also rewarding. I am very proud to state that each dog is an accomplished pheasant hunter and a great family member.
We sometimes unmercifully tease Jim about his shooting skills. Some of it is merited, but most of it is not, and it has become a good natured tradition. I will go in greater depth in a future memory about a South Dakota hunt, but here I will touch briefly on one aspect. It was a frigid, snow blowing day on the flat plains of the Dakotas, and three hours into that difficult hunt, Jim had shot the only pheasant. My son Nate and I told Jim that the planets, the moons and the entire Universe must be out of alignment, since Jim had shot the only bird. We couldn’t find any other answer for that dumbfounding act to occur. We tease Jim so much that we believe our own false accusations to be true to the degree that if Jim and anyone else shot simultaneously, we just assume Jim didn’t hit the bird. I know that’s not true…….but as the old John Wayne movie quote goes: “When the legend becomes fact, print the legend.” I tend to agree with the Duke.
In all reality, Jim is not a bad shot by any standard, but as he claims: “I’m a good shot, but you guys are just better and quicker.” I believe that to be an accurate evaluation of the situation, but I find little consolation in telling Jim that he is a decent shot.
Near Oakfield, Greene with Wick's dog Riley (left) and his Libby after their coldest hunt ever at the Old Pheasant's On the Ledge Hunt Club. (2002)
I have a whole hat full of worth reading Jim related hunting stories, but I will only replay two at this time. Usually, my son Nate and I duck hunt together in our two person blind and Jim waterfowl hunts numerous places. Most times, I will call Jim during the hunt to see how he is fairing and relay our progress to him. One night as it was approaching sunset, I called Jim and we had a fairly long conversation about that day’s hunt. When he finally cut me off, he relayed to me the fact that he was currently stuck, standing about waist high in the muck of a marsh and couldn’t move his feet. Old Jim was nice enough to have a lengthy conversation with me while being stuck in that muck with the sun setting. I still smile at that thought and can’t help but think: “That’s Jim.”
Another time, after our morning coffee, four of us hunting buddies were pheasant hunting at a game farm. Jim pulled up in the field, to give himself some relief from the excess coffee. After he safely put down his shotgun, surprisingly, his stream hit a pheasant at his feet causing the bird to flush. With his pants still open, he picked up his over and under and shot that bird with his second shot. There has to be several good one liners for that scenario. It’s probably been over ten years since that happened, but it is still fresh in our minds as that all contributes to the legend of my buddy Jim Wick. I love ya Jim!