The author and Brad Howard talk ringnecks and shotguns.

The dogs were already having a grand time. Frolicking and bounding every which way, Belle, Abby, Sid and Dixie were glad to be out of their confining boxes and stretching their legs across the vast but very cold Castle Valley, Utah, desert 180 miles south of Salt Lake City.

We hunters, six of us, were spread out across a cornfield that had obviously been none too prosperous for corn. But Dixie soon made it obvious that pheasants had a liking for that field. She was stacked up staunch less than 100 yards from our vehicles. Sid and Abby backed in a most mannerly fashion. Belle was 80 yards to my right, searching diligently, and tail switching back and forth excitedly.

Rick Van Etten and Brad Howard walked in, but by then I noticed to my right that Belle was locked on another bird. The rooster the trio of dogs had sat tight, a big mistake on his part, as Brad cut short his cackle-upon-rising with a shot from his 28-gauge over/under. Brad works for Beretta, so you can bet he wasn't carrying a Krieghoff.

I hurried over to Belle while Dixie, Abby and Sid were vying for the first retrieve of the day. Walking in all by myself, it could have been embarrassing, but I made short work of that rooster. I reloaded while Belle raced to the fall area. She brought the bird back to one of our two guides, Jeremy Lake. I looked back at the close proximity of the trucks, and thought to myself, "I'll bet this is going to be a pretty good day."

The pheasants probably were not thinking so. As shabby as the cornfield looked, the pheasants certainly loved it. So did the dogs, and they were a snappy quartet--three German shorthairs and a vizsla. By the end of the day Rick had already put out the word that he'd like to take the vizsla, Dixie, back to his home base in Iowa.

The timing was early December 2004, and although the short, regular season on ringnecks was over in Utah, Castle Valley has over 16,000 acres--a lot of it set aside as game preserve. Consequently, this working cattle ranch enjoys something like a seven-month bird season, but in reality the season doesn't last nearly that long.

No wonder they call it Castle Valley. All around the valley, buttes like this, resembling castles, look down from the rim high above.

Jeremy Lake raises thousands of pheasants, right from the egg stage, every year. Instead of planting "X" number of birds just before the hunt of each individual party, Lake puts out literally thousands of pheasants at a time--early on. Obviously, Castle Valley's game-preserve status allows the taking of hens, too. I've never been all that big on preserve pheasant shoots, but after hunting three days at Castle Valley I have to say that I've never seen better, more challenging preserve pheasant gunning.

The second day, while the rest of our party concentrated on hunting coyotes, Jason Nash of Federal Cartridge and I were the only ones hunting the pheasants. And to further emphasize the challenge of these Castle Valley roosters, Jason and I walked one heck of a long way between flushes. Which is as it should be; it was a hunt, as opposed to a shoot.

Ranch manager Jim Fauver had seen a black ringneck (Castle Valley raises quite a number of black-phase ringnecks and hens every year) with particularly long tail feathers. He had told us the area this bird liked to lounge around in, plus Jim had estimated the long tail to stretch maybe 25 inches. We hunted up a winding draw toward that area, Jason and I with the Beretta over/unders, Jeremy and his sidekick Casey Edgehouse handling the dogs. This time we still had Sid, Belle and Dixie, but Abby had been given a reprieve for the day, replaced by Casey's Weimaraner/vizsla cross, Rudy.