MARSHALL, MINN. -- The pheasant flushed from a tangled patch of brown grass in a mostly white landscape just in front of Mike Victor. "Mark -- rooster!" he shouted to his twin brother, trudging through the snowy field just to his west.
Mark Victor swung his 12-gauge over-and-under, locked on the target and touched the trigger. The ringneck tumbled to the snow.
"Nice bird," Mike said as the brothers admired the bird's iridescent bronze feathers glistening in the morning sun.
It was finger- and toe-numbing cold, and 5 inches of sugary snow blanketed the countryside, but, oh lordy, there were birds flying during a late-season hunt last weekend in western Minnesota.
Hunting with the Victor brothers and a friend, Jack Wolf of Lakeville, we saw and sometimes flushed dozens of birds -- hens and roosters -- over two days. On a 1-mile stretch of gravel road, Wolf and I counted more than 30 birds scratching in the fields for food.
"This is like South Dakota," Wolf said in bewilderment.
Almost.
It was the most pheasants I'd ever seen in Minnesota.