The first of September marks the start of dove season around the country. At least in the 41 states that allow it. The nine states that don’t allow dove hunting are a mixed bag of the usual suspects along with a few surprising names.
Connecticut, Massachusetts, New Jersey, and New York comprise the usual suspects. Considering their general disdain for all things firearms, it’s a bit of a surprise they allow any hunting at all.
Alaska, Maine, Michigan, New Hampshire and Vermont are states with strong hunting traditions, and in the case of Michigan, a huge population of hunters. Why they don’t permit dove hunting likely has roots in the historical designation of doves as songbirds, giving anti-hunters something to hang their hats on when efforts were made to permit—or prohibit—dove hunting.
Alaska could be the wild card in this mix due to the state’s inability to support a huntable population thanks to its harsh climate. It does, however, have the non-native Eurasian collared dove which can be hunted under the Deleterious Exotic Wildlife designation, along with a list of other such game.
Here in Arizona, there’s no bag limit on Eurasians, But as Chris Dorsey pointed out in “Congratulations, New Hunter—Here Is Your 194-Page Criminal-Exposure Manual” spotting and properly identifying the fast-moving dove—they reach speed up to 55 mph—is fraught with peril should the game warden discover your mistake in judgement.
I won’t get in any trouble mistakenly picking out one species of dove over another because, unlike most of the hunters here, I won’t be out in the dove fields today. I’m stuck running my own Daddy Daycare, where endless cartoons run in place of ESPN’s Get Up and The Pat McAfee Show. And any room I sit down in to work becomes the wrong room, forcing me to move at the command of a tiny tyrant.
I know what some of you are thinking: Take the boy out and introduce him to dove hunting. Nothing would be better. I’m more than eager to take him dove hunting, give him his first shotgun, and get him out on the skeet field to practice before opening day.
Unfortunately, a three-year-old isn’t quite ready to greet the rising sun from a dove stool, much less handle the loud reports of a shotgun. That will come in time, but for now I’m just a hapless non-participant on this opening day.
What I hate most about missing out on dove season is the pre-opener preparation. The ritual of gathering your gear and staging it for the pre-dawn drive out to the fields. Shopping for dove loads at the local gun store. And that new piece of gear you’re absolutely sure will make this year’s hunt that much better.
Originally, before daycare overtook my schedule, I was planning on hunting down in Buckeye on the western side of the Phoenix Valley. It’s home to a couple of great dove hunting locations. It’s such a popular destination, in fact, that the Buckeye Chamber of Commerce actively promotes opening day with information on local hotels, dove hunting events, and even where to eat after the hunt.
You have to love a town that unabashedly welcomes dove hunters like this: “Hunt hard, then relax in comfort with exclusive hotel deals with discounted rates and free swag bags. Just mention you’re in town for the dove hunt at any of these hotel locations.”
The worst part of not dove hunting is being reminded that’s exactly what you could—and should—be doing.
From state agency announcements to hunting gear promotions on social media to the dove-specific loads companies like Federal and Fiocchi have rolled out, everywhere I look there’s another reminder that, when it comes to dove hunting, I’m doing it wrong.
And I’m definitely doing it wrong. But I am catching up on my favorite episodes of Trash Truck…for the umpteenth time. So there’s that.
To those of you out in the field this morning and the coming mornings, I wish you the best of luck this dove season. Also, I hate you.