Kansas, Rain, and the Long Tails of Pheasants

Back on the prairie
There’s something about Kansas that keeps pulling me back. My first upland trip to the state was nine years ago, and that part of the country has captivated me ever since. There’s a remoteness to it — a feeling of being far from the modern conveniences of everyday life — yet scattered across the prairie are quiet reminders of the past: abandoned homesteads, old farmsteads, and the faint traces of people who once tried to carve out a living in a hard, open land. Trees are scarce, grass is abundant, and the horizon seems to stretch forever. Today, large farming operations dominate the landscape, with cattle pasture and row crops of wheat, corn, and milo shaping much of the countryside. Fortunately, this is exactly the kind of environment where pheasant, quail, and prairie chickens thrive.

An old homestead sitting idle on the prairie.

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Why I Come to Kansas
When I make the trip to Kansas, I really have only one bird in mind: pheasant.  If we run into quail, I’m happy to hunt them, but my focus is always on roosters. They’re big, beautiful birds, and they eat about as good as anything you’ll find in the uplands — especially the breast and thighs. But pheasants are also a thinking man’s bird, and a thinking dog’s bird.  A good pheasant dog has to be smart and balanced. Genetics play a role, but experience is absolutely essential. When you finally get a well-bred dog with years of prairie miles behind it, it’s something special to watch.  I saw that firsthand over the years with my old dog, Friedelsheim’s Blues Brother UT-I. Early on, he was productive but overstimulated — he’d overrun birds, get too far out front, and sometimes forget that I was a pretty important part of the equation. Over time, he learned to slow down and use his head. He wouldn’t give up on a track, he’d point when a bird finally hunkered down, and sometimes he’d even pin birds to keep them from running or flushing wild.  When he passed this fall, I knew my current crew had some big boots to fill.  Rose and Koko have spent most of their prairie time on sharptail grouse and huns. We’ve hunted pheasant off and on, but not nearly enough for them to truly master the species. This trip was supposed to give them a full week of pheasant experience — but winter had other plans.

Brother with a nice Kansas rooster in 2020.

Brother knew how to work a field. Pic from 2019.

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Rain, Recovery, and a Reborn Prairie
Kansas has had a rough stretch.  In 2022–23, the state was hit with an extreme drought that hammered the grasslands and, with them, the pheasant population. I hunted that year with my daughter, and it felt like walking across a dusty, barren moonscape. There was still very little rain in 2023–24, so I stayed home and gave the birds time to recover.
In 2024–25, moisture finally returned. I made it out for a few days, but it was still tough hunting.  This year, though, was different.  The state received solid rainfall, and the results were impossible to miss. CRP fields looked fantastic — a true night-and-day difference from the year before. Good grass means a good hatch, and good cover means birds that can survive the winter. Standing out there, it felt like the prairie was finally breathing again.

The endless prairie.

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Birds on the Ground, Misses in the Air
After driving through the night, we hit our first field at 8 a.m. and hunted into the late afternoon. That first day rewarded us with pheasants and a quail — a good way to shake off the road miles.  The next couple of days continued to produce birds, and unlike the year before, finding good cover wasn’t a problem. But as the weather forecast started calling for a winter storm, we knew our trip was about to be cut short. On our last day, we decided to start at sunrise.  It was 15 degrees when we unloaded the dogs.  As I worked my way toward the back of the field, the dogs started getting birdy. A rooster erupted right at my feet. It was a wild flush, but an easy shot — and somehow, I missed.
Not long after, Rose locked up on point. I walked in, expecting a hen. Instead, another rooster exploded into the air. Another chip shot. Another miss.  Then Ty went on point. I walked in. Another rooster flushed. Two more shots sailed harmlessly into the sky.  At that point, choice words were sent across the prairie. I sulked back to the truck, wondering how the dogs still loved me after I’d managed to let every single one of them down.  There’s just something about pheasants. Once I see that big, beautiful bird lift off with those long tail feathers streaming behind it, I get too excited for my own good.

Rose looking like a million bucks with Koko sticking the back.

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Old Friends and the Next Generation
My buddy Tim joined me on this trip. We were both introduced to upland hunting on the western prairie back in 2016, and we’ve made a lot of miles together since then.
The dogs we started with are gone now, and we’re both working with the next generation.  We even ended up with puppies from the same 2020 litter — the Sundance breeding of VC Jacob vd Westwind MH and VC Sundance Pied Piper. That’s where Sundance Kohler Illumination UT-I MH aka "Koko" came from, and where Tim’s male, Sundance Tennessee Jed NA-I, came from as well.  Watching Jed cover the prairie is something else. He moves through the grass with purpose, and when that dog goes on point, he looks like a million bucks. On the first day, Jed and Tim had two roosters in the bag before lunchtime.  He’s a strong, handsome dog, and I really enjoyed watching him.  

Jed on point, looking good!

Jed with the retrieve.

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Back to the Prairie
In the end, even with a shortened trip and more missed shots than I care to admit, it felt good to be back in Kansas.  The drought appears to be behind us, and if the weather cooperates this coming year, next season could be something truly special. Good grass, healthy birds, and young dogs learning the prairie — that’s a pretty good recipe for the future.

My crew posing with Tim’s and my birds on Day 1.

Enjoying the prairie at sunset.