The pheasant hunting season ended in Minnesota today at sundown.  These past three days Biff drove about an hour west of us to Wildlife Management Areas that he’s previously hunted and/or scouted out and mapped. He and the dogs saw tracks in some places and popped up the occasional hen or rooster but they were in tough-to-shoot-at-cattail marshes, and he came home with only stories to tell. Meanwhile, here at home we had pheasants eating corn at our feeder and I counted 19 roosters and hens pecking around in a farm field a very short distance from our property. I’ve never seen that many pheasants together in the wild. Those birds, assuming they survive the coyotes and the coldest part of the winter ahead, will be the moms and dads of next spring’s chicks.