Choose Your Own Adventure: Texas Dove Hunting
How to actually start hunting in Texas this September
Editor’s note: For adults around aged 50 who grew up in a literate household, you could buy “Choose Your Own Adventure” books at the local bookstore Those were written in second-person narrative voice, and each chapter ended by putting a choice in front of the reader of what the character— “you”—should make based on the chapter’s action. They were a lot of fun. This story is an homage to that format.
You have scarcely sauntered into the field, but since stepping out of your air-conditioned car you noticed how hot and humid it is! It’s September in South Texas, you remember. Clutching your brand-new Mossberg 500 12-gauge—the second cheapest shotgun on the rack at the big-box store—with the improved cylinder choke screwed into the threaded muzzle, you feel self-conscious in the brand-new coyote tan and orange bird-hunting vest you bought at the big box outdoors store. You are sweaty and nervous. You have never hunted birds before and now you are in South Texas, miles from home, sweat streaming down, only one practice session on clay pigeons in your experience. But you learned to break the bright-orange clay discs. So… maybe you’ll hit some birds today?
With some difficulty, you manage to twiddle and squeeze bright orange foam hearing protection earplugs into your ear, pulling at the top of your ear and working the plug in one-handed. It’s a hassle, but you can feel them expanding and the world going quieter. Then you notice your heartbeat. You can hear it in your ears now.
You put three shells in the tube magazine of the shotgun, struggling to push the red plastic shells into the tube through the magazine well. You YouTubed how to plug the magazine with a wooden dowel, so you’re all set legally: the Mossberg’s long tube, normally capable of holding five shells, now allows just two in. You rack one into the chamber and slip one more into the tube. Three shells. You’re legal, and you’re ready for your first shots on birds.
You open your folding camouflage stool and set it on the ground, flipping up the backrest and starting to settle down when you hear somebody’s muffled yell: “Bird! Bird!”
You turn around and look up to see a flight of white-winged doves coming in low, flying with impossible erratic eccentricity, weaving and dipping and rising a few feet above the low mesquite-tree tops. Without hesitating or thinking, you shoulder the shotgun, cover a bird that presents an easy target almost directly at your 12 o’clock and squeeze the trigger. And squeeze the trigger.
“The hell?” you think to yourself. “Did I not feel the shot?”
Then you notice the safety is still in the SAFE position.
“Idiot!” your sometimes harsh inner voice chastises you. But instantly, you notice something else, an interesting observation that relieves your harsh self-criticism: you didn’t flinch when you pulled the trigger. You braced and pulled the gun in tight for the shot, but you didn’t flinch the moment you pulled the trigger. You didn’t even close your eyes. The inner voice has nothing to say about this, but you know, and it feels good to know.
A friend nearby shot his two shots from a two-barreled “over-under” 28-gauge, downing a bird from the flight in the cleared sendero in front of him. He didn’t notice your novice error. (You learn later when a seasoned veteran tells on himself about making the same mistake with lots of self-deprecating laughter that everyone does this on occasion, regardless of how “veteran” they are. You shudder to think of doing this with bigger-time prey, like the trophy elk of a lifetime!)
“Good shooting!” you call to him, genuinely impressed.
You scan the horizon and see a paired flight approaching in the distance and sound the alarm to the half-dozen dove hunters dispersed along the north-south sendero, all facing into the afternoon sun: “Birds! Birds!” There is no telling what sector of the sendero they’ll fly over. Just then, there are multiple flights, coming in across almost the entire sendero. It looks like everyone will get a shot. You realize suddenly you will get another shot.
You flip the thumb safety on the pump gun forward and take a breath. You shoulder the gun, looking down the barrel and cover an approaching bird, cover it up with the muzzle and fire once. Nothing. You cycle the pump with your forward hand, shucking out the spent shell and racking a fresh round into the chamber. It misses, so you repeat the process while still locked in on the same bird.
Your second shot causes the small bird to stop mid-flight and arc to the ground nearby. You are mesmerized. You walk over to it, because you are now a casual dove hunter and do not own a retrieving gun dog, and pick it up. It is warm and impossibly soft in your hand, and its head lolls limply down, leaving a small smear of blood on your hand as you deposit it into the open pouch on the back of your vest.
“Hey good shot!” offers your adjacent buddy, picking up his own bird. “Isn’t that your first dove?”
“Yeah, it is!” you reply, a little more enthusiastic than you had intended to sound.
“Congrats! There’ll be plenty more where that came from!”
You walk back to your spot and start to reflect a little after inserting another shell, chambering it, and inserting the third. But you don’t have time to reflect, because more birds are coming.
- If you decide to buy a shotgun, brave the heat, and join a true Texas Tradition: Turn to OldRepublicOutdoors.com (or email Ben) to book your spot and read on.
- To stay indoors where it’s safe and air-conditioned: Close this page and get on Slack to read about tomorrow’s 8:00 AM work meeting.
Dove hunting is important for many Texans because it is the most accessible way to hunt in the state that I can think of.
All you need is a place to go (and there are many), a shotgun (any shotgun from a .410 to a 12-gauge will do) a modified or improved cylinder choke, three or four boxes of shells, and somewhere to put your downed birds where the ants won’t get into them.
With the season opening September 1 state-wide, the choice awaits you, especially if you want to go on your first dove hunt and still haven’t. Some shooters balk because of getting rained out with fairly predictable Labor Day weekend rains. Some because they don’t know if they can hit the side of the barn with a shotgun.
If you have never been dove hunting, listen to me when I tell you that you should go. You should go with friends, first and foremost, even and especially if none of them have ever gone. You should not just go on opening weekend, which can be a lot to process once you’ve reached the property, especially if you’ve never hunted dove, or been hunting at all.
Also:
1. If you don’t have a shotgun yet, buy the cheapest one you can find. I shoot a 12-gauge because I knock down more birds with that, but I see hunters fill their limit with a 28-gauge gun.
2. When you buy the shotgun, buy a Texas hunting license. You have to hunt with it (you can do it online and access it from your phone now, too). You need to purchase HIP certification. Don’t worry, there is nothing to qualify for—you just answer questions about last year’s dove hunting.
3. Buy the plug for a magazine-tube gun and put it in! It is the law, and you don’t want an expensive fine killing the vibe.
4. Learn to take the breast out of the dove (surprisingly, you may need a pair of pruning shears or heavy-duty scissors only), and the dove breast off the bone.
5. Then, learn to make jalapeno dove-breast poppers. According to Texas lore, the poppers you see at HEB—sans dove breast meat—were invented by dove hunters using dove breast meat. The breast medallions are also fabulous sauteed and served over Mexican rice as well.
6. Don’t neglect the choke. You don’t have to understand it to know it makes your harvest percentages go up. You have to use “modified” or “improved cylinder” choke. If you have an over-under, choke both barrels. It does not require a gunsmith.
7. Get some practice on sporting clays. A good dove hunting operation will offer coaching and an opportunity to learn leading and follow-through on clays before you hunt.
I am an adult convert to hunting. I didn’t go on my first dove hunt before I was in my early 20s. I finally caved under the constant nagging pressure of a hunting buddy who insisted we shoot dove. It wasn’t even September; it was the second season in December. I am glad I went because that first hunt was some of the most fun I have ever had in the field.
I have hunted dove most years since that time. I’m not the best I’ve seen (a South Padre Island surfer friend of mine wears that crown), and I’m not the worst I’ve seen (not naming names here, lol). The constant action is what hooked me. None of this sneaking around in the brush for hours looking for a big meat animal.
If you’re interested in an accessible, high-action, social form of hunting, dove hunting can’t be beat. It’s like a video game, but real life. And you get rewarded with tasty morsels and you can really appreciate the value of ice-cold beverage at the end of a hard afternoon, the way our blue-collar grandfathers and great-grandfathers did. Some things need to be kept alive, and I believe Texas dove hunting is one of those worthy traditions.
Hope to see y’all out there. -Ben