Bill Marchel: Storm quiets, dawn arrives, and then the doves roll in

CENTRAL MINNESOTA - The first of four or five flashes of lightning followed immediately by a loud, reverberating clap of thunder shook me awake. I glanced at the clock. Three in the morning. My alarm was set for 4.

"Mother Nature is an hour early," I thought.

Then I heard the rain. I reasoned maybe Mother Nature wasn't early and that hopefully the storm would pass. I went back to sleep.

When my alarm sounded, the rain had indeed stopped. I got dressed and stepped outside into the darkness to walk Axel, my Deutsch Drahthaar. The air was heavy. The stars were bright. Far to the east, the sky occasionally lit up as the storm pushed toward Wisconsin. In an hour my hunting partner, Rolf Moen of Nisswa, Minn., and his pudelpointer, Annie, would arrive.

This was Thursday, opening day of Minnesota's mourning dove season.

According to the GPS, our half-hour-before-sunrise shooting time was 6:06. Rolf and I arrived at our location with a few minutes to spare. By then, low clouds filled the sky, barely visible in the coming dawn. A moderate wind blew from the south, a godsend to keep the hungry mosquitoes at bay. The temperature was in the upper 60s, as was the dew point. Weather forecasters had promised a hot and humid day.

Several days earlier I had scouted for doves at this location and found few birds. This is not mourning dove central, so Rolf and I knew our shooting opportunities might be skimpy. We had hunted this spot on opening day for six consecutive years and had experienced rollercoaster results.

By 6:15 I had yet to see a dove or hear a shot. Then a single blast sounded in Rolf's direction. A few minutes later, Rolf shot again.

Eventually, a lone dove showed up. The speedy bird, riding the tail of the south wind, got past me before I could raise my gun. I wheeled around and pulled the trigger as the dove quickly retreated. I was a bit surprised to see the bird drop, and Axel ran to retrieve my first mourning dove of the 2011 season.

The next dove again caught me by surprise. I had time for just one shot, and the dove kept flying.

As the morning progressed, I spotted the occasional dove. I missed a great opportunity when three of the birds flew past, this time going against the wind. I didn't see them until they had passed out of range.

An hour or so into our hunt, and Rolf and I had two doves apiece.

Shortly after 8 a.m., with six birds in the bag, we ended our hunt. By then, the doves had mostly quit flying, and rain clouds loomed.

As the season progresses, weather fronts will perhaps bring additional mourning doves from the north.

"It was nice to get out," Rolf said as we loaded the truck. "Annie's tail never quit wagging."