A sea of grass … undulating like gentle waves on the ocean … with a prized treasure skulking on the surface until it rises, cackling, sometimes brought back to earth by the keerack! from a lucky hunter’s shotgun. That’s South Dakota, the country’s premier pheasant hunting state, plenty of reason it is on every hunter’s bucket list.
But beyond Phasianus colchicus there are other birds, more access, different habitats, and more adventures await in towns not usually held in the same esteem as the marquee destinations of the state.
Leapfrogging from one walk-in area to the next, I stopped at a country crossroads while consulting the map (no risk of holding up traffic … there is no such thing). Another pickup stopped to my right, driver waving me through. I waved him through, etc., until it got comical, when I shut off the truck and moseyed over.
Our conversation covered ugly dogs, hinky birds, plunging commodity prices, then veered to the important stuff, the nearest public access. I showed him the page in my hunting atlas, index finger on my next stop. “Why not there,” he said, pointing across the road. Privately owned, I said. “It’s mine, let’s go.” And off we went, to hunt untouched ground.
Walk-In-Access Done the Right Way That was a one-off, but the chance to hunt thousands of acres of wide-open walk-in and publicly-owned land is a constant. South Dakota’s walk-in programs (WIA, CREP, and Controlled Access) are legendary–well organized and easy to decipher. There’s even an app for that.
Spending early mornings and entire evenings increase your chances of success. (Photo courtesy of Scott Linden) Go Early, Stay Late I’ve roamed vast tracts with nobody else in the parking areas—it’s all about strategy. Most hunters race to the first public-access land outside of town. Leave earlier than them and drive as far away as you’re willing … nobody else will. Or stay until shooting hours wane:
I was scraping the bottom of the map for one last push when I recognized a truck parked along a small field of stubble, more resembling a shriveled lawn than pheasant habitat. But meandering through it was a small slough, green and lush, with the occasional skeletal tree of indeterminate parentage. Emerging, haloed by a setting sun, was a new friend I’d met in town the night before as we discussed strategy over a frosty glass of malty goodness. “Your timing is perfect. I’m limited out and there’s at least one more bird right … there,” he said, pointing at the tallest of the scraggly trees.
My wirehair and I crossed the field, descending into the slough. Slosh-sploof-splash until the dog froze, nostrils quivering. A rattle, cackle, and my shot trimmed the tree and dropped the rooster, leaves and feathers drifting downwind. Lesson: hunt the entire day—hardly anyone else bothers.
Though it is known for pheasants, South Dakota also has great opportunities for sharp-tailed grouse. (Photo courtesy of Scott Linden) A Bonus Bird, Shaptails All this ringneck talk is great, but the lagniappe (Cajun for “extra gift”) of sharpies may actually be the best reason to shortstop your drive to bigger-name pheasant Meccas. In a good ringneck year, whatcha gonna do with three roosters in the cooler before lunch? If you have a pointing dog, he’ll love the open country where he can extend his range, finding birds that hold for him.
Sharptailed grouse roam the grassy plains of nearby wildlife management and waterfowl production areas. Sure, the best shot (literally) at sharpies has long passed. They are grouped up in big coveys by pheasant opener, harder to get close to for a shot. But they still beckon (er, chuckle).
Another end-of-day story: I peeled off a dusty two-track bordering a cut corn field, tempted by a bowl of knee-high grass where a rooster might have been pushed by earlier hunters. My dog roamed the high spots until the e-collar control trilled “point.” I usually trust the hunter with the longest nose, so trudged up the hill, only to hear a sharptail rise with a cluck-cluck and a too-long going-away shot.
Upland hunting in areas that aren't traditionally viewed as upland spots can yield great results. (Photo courtesy of Scott Linden) Upland Hunting in Waterfowl Areas I seldom pass up a vast grassy plain in South Dakota on the off chance a sharpie is watching me and my dog from the top of a hill. In fact, pulling into town, I stopped to let my wirehair stretch his legs near a blue sign designating a waterfowl production area. It was an ocean of deep green, waving in the gentle breeze. Ten minutes into our walk, the dog was skylined on a low ridge, stock-still, until a single grouse flew. I was unarmed so could only salute it with one finger.
Pheasants, sharptails, and the occasional chicken, those waterfowl production areas are a hole card you are dealt with every hand. Chances are you’ll have the place to yourself, as most non-residents can’t hunt waterfowl due to a restrictive permit system, and what few locals there are will be long gone by the time uplanders take the field.