Argentina outfitters have ramped up operations to fully service the needs of traveling hunters with first-class accommodations and well-seasoned bird dogs. Photo by Gary Kramer.

We grabbed our shotguns and shell vests, and with our bird boys leading the way, we began walking down the line of trees. We walked about 150 yards when my bird boy, Raul, stopped and put down the case of shells he was carrying. He pointed to a shady spot, where he set up a shooting stool. Within seconds, a flock of doves flew by at about thirty-five yards. I threw my over/under to my shoulder, caught up with the streaking targets, swung past a gray blur and pulled the trigger--once, twice. A single eared dove plummeted to the ground. I loaded two more shells just in time to shoulder my shotgun and swing on another flock of twenty birds passing overhead. Again, two shots resulted in one bird dropping.

This particular area was a flyway between a nearby feeding area and a distant roost. Most shots were at least thirty yards. With some practice, our group of shooters was consistently dropping birds at forty and even forty-five yards. The action was nonstop, and by the time the birds quit flying, just before sunset, the number of doves ranged from 100 to more than 327 per shooter.

The eared dove is a species endemic to most of South America. Hunting them is popular in Bolivia, Uruguay and Argentina. This handsome bird is about the same size, general appearance as our mourning dove, but instead of a long, pointed tail, it has a short square tail. Like doves worldwide, they are swift flyers and offer challenging wingshooting.

Eared doves are prolific, and under the right conditions, their numbers can reach monumental proportions. Conditions are perfect in Argentina--food is plentiful and includes wheat, corn, soybean, sorghum and sunflower. Irrigation canals and small impoundments provide water; wooded areas provide roosts and nesting. This equates to an enormous population of dove, which are considered pests by local farmers. As a result, there’s no season or limit on dove in Argentina, and the number of birds in the bag depends on your shooting ability, local populations and how much money you’re willing to spend on shells.

The next morning, I teamed up with Larry Bauman and along with the rest of the group made the short van ride to the boats. In the predawn darkness, we boarded the boats, donning our gloves and hoods to ward off the cold morning air. Fifteen minutes later, we pulled up to a steep bank in a bend of the river and walked about fifty yards to a blind just off the main channel. In the dim light, I could see about two dozen decoys set up in the shallow marsh. There were two stools in the blind, and we settled in just before the sun peaked above the horizon.

The first pair of ducks slipped in unannounced and were on top of us before we knew it. I looked up to see a flash of wings and instinctively shouldered my gun, firing two shots. Somewhat to my amazement and delight, I dropped the pair. A few minutes later, Larry spotted another flock circling above the pond, and Raul started calling. He used a series of low grunts and purrs that sounded just like the rosy-bills overhead. The birds circled wide, then decided to join the imposters already on the water. They dropped in with wings cupped and feet down. When they were twenty yards out, I said, “Let’s take em!” Larry and I picked targets in unison and opened fire. When the shooting was over, two rosy-billed pochards were on the water.