November brings the annual pheasant hunt in Utah. It's not nearly as big as it was even 30 years ago, let alone in the mid-1950s when I used to go out with my dad. Mainly that's because there is far less pheasant habitat. But every first Saturday in November I think of those days when we could go out in Cache Valley after school, drive around and likely see pheasants in the fields. So many years I still go out. This year was no exception. Like last year, I took Coco (a/k/a Killer) to the Salt Creek WFA near Tremonton. Last year Coco was a real sissy. She would hardly get off my heels in the long grass and a few times I kicked her under the chin with my boot because she was right behind me. This year she got out more and even got into the deep cattails and rushes. We didn't see anything, not even a hen, but it was a beautiful day.
The Salt Creek WFA is a beautiful place. It's not like the Pacific Coast Highway or the mountains, but in its own way it is so pretty. I've seen fox, deer, hawks, owls and the occasional pheasant there.