Years ago, my brother and I were hunting the fencerows of our farm on a bitterly cold morning after a night of blowing snow. There sticking out of a snow drift was the tail-end of cock pheasant. We both thought it was frozen in place, so my brother grabbed the tail feathers to pull it out. We were shocked when the pheasant started cackling and beating the air with its wings. In all the excitement, my brother tossed the rooster into the air, and I managed to drop it dead on the corn stubble. Sort of a farmboy version of a columbaire pigeon shot.