I've been re-reading a favorite book of mine, Gun Dogs and Bird Guns, by Charlie Waterman. If you've not read Waterman's stuff, you should, and this book is one of his best, IMHO.

But this morning I came across this passage, and it moved me:

"I would like to get poetic about Huns, for nobody else has. I like them in Oregon in dry country when they flush from the edge of a giant erosion and swerve with the air currents caused by a ribbon of river far below. It is wonderful in Alberta when they leave the stubble and go against a backdrop of blue sky and a bright orange grain elevator. In Montana they flush from the abandoned homestead where they and their ancestors have lived half a century.

"I love to look for them in the edges of the golden stubble, but perhaps the high-grassland Huns are the best of all. The country is wilder and more lonely. Small European gamebirds making a home where the summers are dry and the winters are cold.

"Scatter the covey and look fruitlessly for it as night comes on, your dog confused by occasional shreds of scent, finding nothing. Bone-tired, unload your gun and start back toward the truck as true night closes in. There's an occasional bullbat when the first stars show and a little wind in the grass. Then you hear the faint, reedy sound somewhere on the shadowing slope. A lonely Hun asking about his friends."

This chapter in Waterman's book made me remember how often I've hunted Huns, and how much I've enjoyed it over the years, and how much I miss it. I'm going to have to remedy this problem next fall, I realize.

I still rate the Hun as my favorite upland bird at the dinner table, and have done since I was a small boy. And I think I'm not alone among bird hunters raised on the northern plains in thinking that there is no covey bird I'd rather hunt than the Hun.

Dogs running big, then locking up solid.
The dash to get there in time, watching the dog to see just how close they are.
The explosion of the covey rise with the sound of old gates creaking, a pile of smoking shells at your feet, hopefully a bird or 2 for the dog to retrieve.
Sometimes the early season birds hold so tight that they get up at your feet, or sit there thinking they have you fooled.
Running GSPs in big country is what got me hooked on dogs/birds in the first place.
Zeke and I will be out there again tomorrow, only a couple more days left in the season.

Waterman was one of my favorites.. Haven't shot many huns, but they certainly are a great game bird.. Too bad folks don't get a chance to read some of the older sporting books.. Major Charles Askins was perhaps my very favorite author.. Then Nash Buckingham.. The shooting those men had is unreal...

Good Post!

We don't have many, but I love to blunder into Huns. They're quite a bird.

WCH... if you get a chance to buy any of the Sports Afield anthologies, you'll get some of the best stuff written by guys like Buckingham, Askins, Waterman, etc. Good stuff.

I was out busting big country for blue quail on Sunday, which is new game to me... I've only shot one quail before, on a pheasant hunt on a ranch near Fredericksburg last fall, so getting a chance to work on coveys over a pointing dog was interesting and a lot like Huns. Like Huns, these quail don't necessarily hold for a point, which I find endearing and familiar.

But I've got to get up north next fall for some wild Huns. Do they range farther south than Montana, does anybody know?

There is nothing better then the "Home Covey" walking around on the step when it gets cold in the winter.

Doc. Thanks for the tip on the Sports Afield books.. I have shot a few huns in Wyoming.. Not many, but a few.. I have heard they can be quite plentiful in certain areas of the state, BUT I have never found that many...
When I retired in 1999, I spent much of the fall and early winter hunting away from southern Wy. BUT that fall and early winter there was a hun explosion here.. I missed it completely..
So they do range farther south than Mt., but perhaps not in great numbers..

Last year I was hunting all day on Huns. 2-3 big coveys, bust them up, and hunt the singles and doubles.

Havent found ANY this year....lol

WE love hunting Hungarians!
Cat

I have a nice covey, sometimes two, at my farm in South Dakota. They are interesting birds and I like having them around. when its real cold we frequently see them puffed up and sitting in the protection of the chokecherries.

We have scattered populations of them here in northern Nevada. They hang out on the alluviums at the base of large canyons at the foot of mountain ranges where there is good grassland. Elko and Humboldt Counties hold decent populations but not like in MT.

it is the only game mount I have is of a hun they are a cool bird im from nw iowa and you see them here and there Use my parker 16 vhe mod and full straight grip redone by delgrego cool gun to hunt huns with

Whitman County Washington used to have one of the largest per-acre populations of Huns in the world, when I lived there in the 1970s and '80s. I suspect that "clean farming" and development have made that no longer the case, but Eastern Washington wheat areas like the Palouse Prairie probably still have relatively large numbers of Huns.

One problem with them is the season starts in September, which is hard on dogs: snakes are still out and the heat can kill, too.

I like Huns, but we kinda considered them kind of a a "booby prize" when I lived there--phez were the real goal, with California quail the secondary.

And then there was the relentless "War on Chukars"....only Afghanistan could have spawned such beings!

I consider huns a target of opportunity when after pheasants too. They're pretty dark meated so I am not real big on eating them but they sure are fun. I've killed LOTS in Southern Idaho as well as the Palouse over the years.
Last week:

A few from last year. Only shot 3 this year.

Nice Dog...

I like Huns for their dark meat, same as I like sagehen and sharptail.

Doc Thanks for reminding me about hunting Huns will living in Alberta. They get up like little rockets, was mighty good sport.
Cheers NC

some of the best pointing dogs i have owned were started on huns, i would like to find birds like that in montana like i had found in idaho

one young pointer i had had his first hun shot over his point when he was 6 months old, by the end of the season he had 206 huns shot over his points,, phenominal dog, the next summer he got to close to my mule and a kick to the head ended his days,,,,,

Agreed
The best bird ever to start young dogs on.
Especially early season birds.

Don't like eating them though. I'll be saving mine for Luv2Safari in the future:)

NC... thanks back. I was up in Alberta last week for a medical conference and some skiing with my daughter (she flew in from Wisconsin to rendezvous with me, we ski'd Lake Louise together for the first time since my knee replacements 10 years ago).

I spent a few days with my Dad, who's 86 now. We played cribbage, drank Big Rock beer, and reminisced about all kinds of stuff (daughter loved hearing the old stories I've heard a million times).

The last time I hunted with Dad was 15 years ago. As it happens, it was his last hunting season. I moved to Wisconsin the following spring, and Dad decided that he didn't care to hunt without me and my dog(s), so he gave his shotgun to my brother and retired from the bird-killing business. And I might add that he had killed a lot of birds, when he was in that business, especially in the early days when the limit on ducks was 25 and you could bring home 5 pheasants a day without a bird dog.

As it was each season in southern Albeta, our first hunt that season (1996) was the opening upland weekend (not including pheasant), which meant Huns. Dad, my son, and I drove down to the open country in the Eastern Irrigation District southeast of Vulcan. This was prime Hun country at the time, and had been for many years. I hear they've cleaned up the irrigation canals since then, and the vegetation is way down and so are the birds... sad, but what can you do?

Anyways, we got into bird country early that cool September morning, and had a cup of coffee in the truck while we waited for shooting light while Brit the Mighty Pheasant Dog beat the inside of his crate to death with his tail and whined up a storm. Brit considered Huns almost beneath his dignity, but only just... once he got scent and the guns barked and birds fell out of the sky, he gave up his pretensions of grandeur and had him a high ol' time...

We pulled into an abandoned farm yard I had had good success with now & then previous seasons. There was a grey and weathered little farmhouse on the southeast corner of the land with a big overgrown carragana hedge hemming in the home yard to the west and north, and beyond that a nearly-dry creek running northeast-to-southwest, and beyond that a hill to the north and some granaries just below the summit. If you caught a covey in the short grass of that yard, they had to flush higher than they normally do to clear the hedge and make for the hilltop beyond, which gives a gunner a wee edge you don't always have on these little grey rockets.

We limbered the guns, and set Brit out to quartering across the thin grass on the back of the property. The sun was just hitting the treetops overhead, and Dad and Luke moved out on the flanks while I took the middle. Brit got birdy on his second or third cast, it was that quick. I called to the guys to move up quick as you have to do when hunting over a flushing Springer, and they did, and just like that Brit put his nose down into the grass and a big covey of 15 birds or so thundered out of the shortgrass prairie, rising high as they had to to clear the carragana hedge 40 yards away, blue sky and snow-capped mountains beyond them, the birds rising into the first light of sunrise.

Guns came up almost of their own accord and spoke reflexively. I saw my first bird fold, and watched my second bird get away clean. In my peripheral vision to my left I saw Luke's bird fall to the second shot from his 20-gauge Wingmaster.

I shifted my focus to Brit, and saw he was on my bird already. I had long since stopped wondering at how Brit always knew which bird I had shot in a covey flush, but he always did. Dog magic. He brought it to hand, then immediately galloped out to fetch Luke's bird, which he had marked even while rocketing to his first retrieve. Great dogs can do that.

Then I turned to my right, where Dad was standing with a little smile on his face. Luke was a young hunter then, so I naturally tended to pay closer attention to him. I had heard Dad shoot 3 times, but hadn't marked his shots at all.

"Well," Dad announced, "I don't know what you guys are going to do for the rest of the day, but I'm gonna put my shotgun away and drink coffee. I got my limit."

I goggled at him and said something impolite, as one does when someone makes utters such an obvious lie in the field. No one, and I mean NO ONE, kills 5 Huns on a single flush. Period. Maybe ground-sluicing a flock with a 4-gauge punt gun, but never hard-flushing birds with a 16-gauge Model 12.

But Brit went to work, and sonofabitch if he didn't eventually bring in 5 Huns from Dad's side of the field. It took a while, because the fifth bird was a moving cripple, but old Brit was a savvy retriever and tracked the Hun down into the crick bottom and got it out from under a pileup of dead Cottonwood.

"Okay," I said to Dad, eating crow as gracefully as I could under the circumstances. "You killed your limit, I'll give you that. But to do so, you had to be flock-shooting."

Now, anyone who's hunted covey birds knows that the surest way to miss clean is to flock-shoot. It was a deliberate insult, or should I say, deliberate balls-breaking.

"Nope," Dad declaimed calmly as he slipped his Model 12 back into its case and poured himself a fresh cup of coffee. "The birds on my side all broke left to right. I killed the first bird just off the flush, then swung and there were 2 birds superimposed, so I snap-shot them, then swung right, and the same thing happened again."

"Bullschitt," I muttered, and Luke grinned into his cup of hot chocolate.

Now, my Dad had been hunting birds in Alberta and Saskatchewan for 50 years. He had told me every one of his hunting stories at least 50 times, and I knew for a fact that he had never scored more than a double on Huns in all those years, never mind a triple, never mind a quintuple! To be truthful, I don't know anyone who's scored a triple on Huns, and I've hunted with some damn good shotgun men over these last six decades.

Dad was a good shot on game, but he was what he called a "snap shot", a man who can hit quickly, but isn't much good on "set" shots such as ones where you wait that half-second for two birds to line up. I knew this not just from his stories, but from 30 years of hunting with him and watching him shoot.

So I called him on it, but he just shrugged and smiled and sipped his coffee.

Well, as I recall we all got our limits on Huns that morning, and lucked into some puddle ducks on a canal just after lunch, and it was a good day as we set off west and north back to Calgary in the warm golden autumn afternoon.

As it happens, the subject of that hunt came up this last weekend as Dad and daughter and I sat over the cribbage board sipping Big Rock and snacking on cheese and venison sausage I'd brought up from Texas. I admit I pushed him a bit.

"C'mon, Dad," I said, "You've got to admit that there had to have been just a smidgeon of luck on that morning."

He grinned. "Well," he said, taking a sip of his beer. "There might have been."

I can still picture the brilliant blue of a clear fall sky where it meets the amber gold of picked corn stalks (here in Iowa) and a covey busting up with a twitter. A double falling to my Browning in those many years ago is one of those kinds of pictures we all take at one time or another and recall again at a chance post.

Delicious too!

Unfortunately, I haven't seen any of those fine birds here for years now.

Huns were my favorite bird when I first got out of the military. There in southern Idaho they were plentiful (of course, the changes in farming practices coupled with the explosion in human population has nigh eradicated them now). I had no dog, but the Huns hung out in bare fields out beyond the neighbor's house. I'd walk across his lawn and wave as I went by then it was just a case of walking. Eventually I'd stumble across some. With no warning like that I did very well unlike other birds in other seasons when I had time to think about the shot. And miss. But I do know where a few hide out in Alberta :-)

I have shot pathetically few compared to some of you folks. We used to have a few in east central Iowa where I grew up. On one memorable day we put up pheasants, a covey of bobwhites and a covey of partridge from the same square mile. Those were the days...
I like them because they remind me of my Dad's stories about hunting them in North Dakota as a kid.

Huns are some of the prettiest game birds out there in my opinion. Late season birds can be downright gorgeous. As more and more of the old homestead sites in the area are bulldozed in the name of efficiency, the number of huns has seemed to drop accordingly. On several occasions in the past, a couple of buddies from the Cody area would come up to hunt huns early in the year and we would limit for the 3 of us with a bag of 24 birds. Now a guy is lucky to be able to shoot one limit with three guys. As has been said, they're great on the table as well. Probably my favorite gamebird to eat.

Yea, there is much to regret here where I live. In the '60's, while in college, a friend and I legally shot right at 200 ring necks one season. 'Course every time it snowed we cut class which in retrospect was a bit much. But we had the 60's version of CRP then, Government Acres, and a lot of it. I even did my ecology paper on the pheasants' stomach contents. But the point is we saw Huns frequently though not in the cover like ring necks but out in open to semi-open stubble. We never shot many of these birds but they were an occasional bonus. I was always amazed how apparently tough they were as in a blizzard the covey would form a tightly grouped mass right in the open. Pheasants would be under the snow in the thickest cover available.

Now most CRP contracts are up or been canceled and the ring necks are few and far between and as I mentioned I haven't seen the beautiful little Huns in years.

I love Huns. ID, MT, WY and hopefully Canada soon. Often incidental, yet always welcome and much appreciated. Love to hear the cheeky screech!

no crossbolt safety on that one! nice photos. I used to hunt Huns in Washington Palouse country, to me they were the best eating bird around.