Immigrant Success Story

For a gal who grew up spending every fall hunting pheasants with family, you’d think I’d have been insanely curious about how these strikingly beautiful Chinese immigrants found their way to the Great Plains. Knowing me, I did look up these pretty birds in a well-used set of World Book encyclopedias. I must’ve settled for the simple answer that someone imported them from Asia. I’m certain the article was short and sweet, with few of the embellishments now found on the World Wide Web.

 

With the power of cyber space at my fingertips, I’ve since learned these ring neck wonders arrived first at Port Townsend in Washington State. An American consul general by the name of Owen Nickerson Denny discovered them during his service in China. There, local farmers netted and marketed these wild birds. This diplomat recognized not only their beauty but also their flavorful meat. According to Historyllink.org, Denny wrote a friend, saying, “These birds are delicious eating and will furnish fine sport.”

During his tenure in Asia, Denny bought enough birds to raise a fattened domestic flock for his own dining delight. As time grew near to return to the American Northwest, he conceived the idea of taking a breeding population home with him. He arranged in 1881to transport aboard the vessel Otago, 60 ring necks along with a few Mongolia sand grouse and chefoo partridges. In the shipment, he included native fruit trees and bamboo cuttings to transplant to his homeland. Only the pheasants and bamboo still exist in the wild.

While the birds survived the ocean voyage, they didn’t do well during the overland transport. Only a few lived long enough to establish homes on an island in the Columbia River. Authorities disagree on how well this population reproduced and expanded.

Still hoping to establish a successful breeding colony of these game birds, Denny imported a second group in 1882 and shipped them directly to Portland, Oregon, which was closer to the family homestead. These new imports quickly went native, and within a year, thriving populations expanded into surrounding counties. By 1892, Oregon established a pheasant-hunting season. If accounts are accurate, hunters harvested 50,000 of Denny’s pheasants on its first day.

In 1884, Denny arranged a third delivery to the original destination in Washington State. This time, the birds proliferated and expanded their territory into Canada. Anytime people see success, they duplicate it. As a result, hopeful sportsmen transported breeding pairs to other regions until you can now find descended stock in at least 19 American states. No longer called Denny’s pheasants, populations did so well in South Dakota that over a million now live there, and legislators named them the state bird.

Despite reduced populations the last few years in Kansas, this is still a great environment for these Asian immigrants. Our many fields of grain offer optimal food and cover for these beautiful and tasty birds. Just as many of our ancestors came to this land as new arrivals  and thrived, so have these creatures. They are as much a part of what makes this state amazing as we are.

The Day Our Rabbit Dog Became a Bird Dog

          

         We have a little viszla with an uncanny nose.  She sifts olfactory information and interprets it much the same way criminologists sift crime scene data to determine an answer.  While the criminologist writes up a lengthy report, Reebok freezes on the spot, leaning her taut red body a bit into the whiffs coming her way, and goes on a hard, bird dog point. 

Her traveling companion is a greyhound/golden retriever mix with an insensitive nose.  Tucker depends entirely on eyesight to zero in on his favorite game, rabbits.  Unfortunately, he’s taught that little red viszla a bad trick over the years, and now she points rabbits if we don’t keep her honest.

While I am not a bird hunter, I’ve cussed Tucker when the little red dog goes on point over a silly rabbit. However, Tucker recently redeemed himself in a most unexpected way. 

About a week after pheasant season opened, I drove home to hear hunters working the walk-in hunting area near our house.  I thought I recognized our neighbor’s voice, and I smiled to think of him teaching his young sons the intricacies of pheasant hunting.  I heard several shotgun blasts in a row and hoped they had success enough to make those boys want to hunt again.

After the hunters quieted down, Tucker and I headed on our afternoon ramble.  We didn’t see any evidence of hunting success as we wandered down our familiar path.  Too bad, I thought.  Early success makes a difference to a young hunter just as it does to a youngster in a classroom.

On journey’s homeward leg, my big, yellow dog followed his usual habit of ducking into the cedar shelterbelt.  He likes success too and knows the tree row is always good for scaring up a rabbit.  Instead of dashing out after a cottontail, I saw my big, yellow dog emerge, almost sheepishly, retrieving something big and dark. 

What did he get into?  I wondered.  My first thought was that he found a crow carcass from a flock roosting in the cedars.  I commanded him to drop it, which he promptly did.  He acted uncertain about what to do in his new role.

As I walked right up on the dog and object, I recognized a freshly killed pheasant.  Our neighbor or his son had made a good shot and lost the bird when it flew into our windbreak.  My rabbit dog had turned bird dog and knew exactly what to do when he had a bird to deliver.

We finished the trek home, where I called my neighbor to tell him of Tucker’s find. Seeing my neighbor’s son show the pheasant he shot to his grandpa and listening to them tease about who got the tail feathers reminded me of why it is important for hunters to pass on their love of the outdoors.

 It also reminded me that old dogs do learn new tricks.  Tucker keeps nosing back to where he found that bird, hoping that he’ll discover another treasure.