Ginn Barnes for SPLIT REED
It’s that time of year. The time when I gas up my truck and make my way to my honker hunting grounds to shake some hands and kiss some babies. I want to make sure the landowners will still take my calls come this fall and I have some places to hunt. Every year I hold my breath, hoping that nothing has changed from the previous year and that I’ll have something to look forward too come fall. I’ve become more nervous as the years have rolled by, as I have lost some great hunting spots due to landowner deals with big money hunting leases, land developers, or as in this story I am about to share, some short sighted hunters and their lack of respect for a landowner
Bill is a third-generation farmer and one of the nicest guys on the planet. His generosity to let me on his land has been the impetus of some of my fondest memories regarding waterfowl hunting. That being said, Bill will not be taking my calls, or anyone else’s for that matter when it comes to hunting on his land. I share this story in the hopes that those who read it will take an honest self-inventory of how you treat your landowners. My hope is that the “Bills” in your world will not have to endure what he did, and you won’t have any of your honey holes stripped from you due to some idiot hunters.
As I made the rounds to the many farms and pivots, in the area I hunt, I spent the day searching down the landowners (which isn’t easy this time of the year, as most of them are either in the shop fixing equipment or out in their fields) hoping to get a word with a few. By the end of the day and with some luck, persistence and thoughtful gifts, things were looking optimistic for this coming season. However, as the day came to a close I hadn’t been able to lock things up with Bill for the coming season. Bill’s land is the crown jewel of all the land I hunt, so I didn’t want to head home without some face to face time with him in effort to get the perennial green light. When I stopped by earlier and spoke to his wife, she mentioned that I needed to talk to Bill, and I could tell by the way that she said it that something was up. When I returned back to his home later in the day and saw the old Dodge in the driveway, I knew he was home and was curious and nervous about what he would have to say.
Bill came to the door and we shook hands, and I could tell by his body language that bad news was coming. When I asked him about the prospects of me hunting his land this year, his response was calculated and direct. He said, “I hate to do this to you after all these years, but I am shutting down my land to hunting and will be allowing my family only”. He proceeded to tell me the events that led up to his decision. He said that a local kid in town came and asked to hunt his place. He knew that the geese were pounding his land, as his phone was blowing up with calls for permission to hunt. He told the kid that he could hunt in the morning, but only set up on pivot 1 and please stay out of pivot 2 and 3. He was saving those fields for his grandson who was coming into town that weekend and promised him a good hunt. He also told the local kid that because the ground wasn’t frozen, that he was going to have to walk his decoys into the field, and he didn’t want tire ruts through his winter wheat. He said the young man agreed and that was that.
The following day, as the morning light cast its glow over the valley, Bill heard a shotgun blast and instantly knew that it had come from the wrong pivot. One of the two he had asked the boys to stay out of. But Bill, being one of the nicest guys around, gave the boys the benefit of the doubt that maybe they didn’t know which pivot was #1, even though he was pretty sure they did, as this wasn’t his first time on his property. Bill just bit his tongue and let the boys have their hunt. It wasn’t till the hunters were long gone and he made his way around the farm to check on things, that his blood began to boil. He noticed three separate and distinct tire tracks running out to the middle of the pivot. He told me this is when he started to get very upset for the blatant disregard for his instruction not to drive out to the X. He then noticed shiny glints of metal out in the field where the boys set up, along with a bunch of weeds and blind material, so he walked out to have a look. To his utter disgust, he found energy drink cans, at least two dozen empties, food wrappers and all the weeds they used to brush in their blinds left behind for the wind to blow away across Bills ground. He told me he had to go back to the house, grab two garbage sacks for all the trash, and then spent the next half hour picking up their garbage. Bill was so upset for the lack of respect for his land that he told his wife that ‘he is shutting down his land for hunting, so if anyone calls, tell them no’. Period. He told me that if this was the only time he had to pick up after hunters that he would have just given the young kid a tongue lashing and let it go, but sad to say this story is not uncommon for Bill. As I listened to the story, I could see the mixed emotions in Bills eyes as it is not in his nature to be so brazen and firm, but I could also sense his resolve in his posture, so I didn’t push the issue. I simply shook his hand and told him I completely understood his situation and didn’t blame him for his decision to shut it down, as upset as I was. I gave him a heartfelt thanks for his all the years of letting me on his land and went on my way.
So, for all of you reading this story, please- be respectful to landowners, as you are well aware that finding places to hunt on private property is getting harder and harder to do. This goes for all types of hunting. I would imagine that most of you reading this find yourself chasing four legged critters too. So, my plea is the same, please be respectful to landowners and other hunters. We are all in this together, so I beg you…Don’t be that guy!
