Going Western With The 828 U
An early morning dew weighed heavy on the tall, yellow grass. The lack of wind didn’t help. Still, the dogs wanted to work.
Rather than head through the middle of the meadow, a buddy and I walked the edges. A creek trickled down one side of the field. Hardwoods adorned in fall colors painted the hills on the opposite side.
The first rooster erupted and my buddy dropped it. Fifty yards up the creek, the shorthairs stuck another point. A ringneck flushed over the stream where a payload of 1 1 1/4-ounce #5s from my little double hit the mark. The bird fell on the other side of the stream. The dogs were quick to get on it and deliver it to hand.
The dogs continued up the creek. I followed, still holding the fresh rooster in my hands, admiring its glistening colors before slipping it into my game vest. A few more steps and the dogs were on point. I still held the rooster in my left hand, gun over my right shoulder. When a rooster erupted through tall willows, frantically cackling, I raised the shotgun with one hand, followed it through the brush then dropped it when it lined-out in a small opening.
The one-handed shot wasn’t planned, but it was necessary. Three weeks prior I incurred a severe tear to my left rotator cuff. I shoot right handed and raising my left arm above my shoulder was impossible. I knew going into this hunt, as did my buddy, it would set the tone for the rest of the season. That’s why he let me borrow his Benelli 828 U.
The moment I touched the little 20 gauge, I liked it. A sleek, low profile design felt like it was custom built for me. It was so comfortable to grip, light to shoulder, and fast to swing, even one handed, I couldn’t wait to shoot it. We secured a limit of roosters that morning.
A week prior I took my standby 20 semi auto’ out to shoot a few clays. I struggled as my shoulder was too week and sore to handle the gun. Thanks to the lightweight, ergonomic fit of the 828 U, my fall outlook just got brighter.
That afternoon we targeted Hungarian partridge. As with ringneck pheasants, Huns’ were introduced to the U.S. They did well on the northern prairies and today, thrive in many places throughout the West. They like open fields, largely thriving in areas where agricultural lands overlap with native shrub habitats. Old fields, crop fields, overgrown scrublands, and grasslands are where the gray partridge thrives. They often overlap with pheasant and valley quail, making for great mixed bag opportunities.
The flats we hunted were tucked into the bottom of giant granite peaks jutting into the sky. The rock-covered mountains surrounded us and screamed Western hunting action.
As the sun dipped below the towering mountains, we worked into a slight breeze.
Grasshoppers blanketed the tops of the tall grass we hunted. They were especially thick along the brushy edges, at the bottom of the mountains. These high-protein food sources are the focus of many upland birds in the fall. Once the first hard freeze hits, the grasshoppers are gone, and birds know it. We inspected the crops of the first brace of Huns. Both were full of grasshoppers. The rest of the evening was spent scouring the edges of the grass and brush line. Hun’ numbers were good, the shooting even better.
Growing up in the Pacific Northwest, the allure of upland bird hunting fascinated me. Ringneck pheasants were first introduced into the continental U.S. in the 1880s, less than an hour from where I grew up. Shooting a limit of roosters on my way home from high school in the late 1970s and early ‘80s was common. Ringnecks thrived in Oregon’s Willamette Valley, numbering into the tens of thousands. We used to have them our backyard. Sadly, they’re all gone now.
As a kid, chukar and Huns’ grabbed my attention, most likely because I didn’t have them out my doorstep. I had to drive to the eastern side of the state to chase these birds. And I did. My recent Hun’ experience took me back in time. Fortunately, gray partridge hunting is still exceptional in the right places, at the right times.
Wielding the 828 U with comfort and shooting it with instant accuracy, my confidence grew. There were more pheasant hunts with it, along with Huns and quail. Then it was time to head high into the chukar mountains.
Over the decades I’ve lucked into a handful of chukars at the bottom of the mountain. But every chukar hunter knows the best experience happens at the top.
Approached from above, chukars hold in rocks and when they flush, it’s most often downhill. Though the fast swinging and shooting action would test my shoulder, it was also the best position for me to be in; shooting downhill was the least painful position.
The hardest part of chukar hunting is the ascent. It’s not an endeavor meant for weak legs and hunters carrying extra pounds. The more fit you are, the more prime habitat you can reach, the more gratifying and productive the overall experience will be.
Every chukar mountain I’ve ever climbed, I’ve mentally approached in the same way. First with high hopes of reaching the top, then with burning legs and heavy lungs making me question my ability to even get to where I needed to be. But once the summit is near, adrenaline kicks in. When you reach the top, the commanding view momentarily makes everything right in the world. Suddenly the pain is gone, your breathing slows and a calmness overtakes the body. You tell yourself this moment, this beautiful sight, is worth it, even if you don’t kill a bird. Then the urge to hunt kicks-in, and you’re off. The dogs have been ready to go long before you.
Once at the top, it’s downhill from there. Working your way down a ridge may take half the day. Zigzagging back and forth, letting your dogs work the wind, is a great way to tackle razor topped ridges. Sometimes there are flats or rolling hills on top, and often chukars thrive in them. Gentle habitats give you a mental boost, knowing you can hunt them all day long if needed.
Last season saw a good chukar hatch throughout much of their range in the West. This made for fast action on multiple hunts. My first shot with the 828 U at a fast-flying chukar dropped it in the rocks. I rushed and missed the second shot.
The next covey the dog pointed held tight. This time I made a conscious effort to slow down. My first shot came quick, folding a partridge in a cloud of feathers. I had more time on the second shot, pulling the trigger just as a chukar headed straight away.
I came off the mountain shy of a limit. The next day I redeemed myself, filling my pouch with a quota. I picked up a brace of bonus Huns’ at the bottom, and that afternoon a limit of roosters along a wooded creek. Hunting amid tall cottonwoods, their golden leaves shimmering in the afternoon sun, made for yet another stunning setting.
The instant I tore my rotator cuff I knew it was bad. “You have a hole the size of a quarter and nothing will fix it but surgery,” the doctor told me after looking at the MRI. When he told me I’d need an operation within a year’s time, a lightbulb in my little brain went off. “So you’re telling me I can hunt this fall and winter, and get surgery after the season.” He looked at me over his wire-rimmed glasses, not a smile, shook his head, and scoffed, “Yeah, just let the pain be your guide and realize there are things you simply won’t be able to do, like raise your arm above your shoulder.” That was all I needed to hear.
The other guns I tried shooting early in the season, after my injury, were too much to handle. Benelli’s 828 U gave me hope. Not only was it an instant fit, it just plain dropped birds. I’m not much of a target shooter. Nor am I a gun writer. My experiences as a full-time writer come with hunting and killing. The more birds I shoot in a range of conditions and situations, the more I learn about the gear I’m using. That’s what I like to write about.
Some guns just kill. The 828 U is one of them. You shoulder, swing, shoot and birds fall. Sometimes a poof of feathers and a folded bird even surprises you. That’s the sign of a great gun and an efficient load.
Even when my shoulder heals I see myself continuing to shoot the Benelli 828 U. The fine finish work makes for simple operation, even without looking. Though it’s light and easy to maneuver, the recoil is slight. It’s also the perfect gun to carry whether walking fields for roosters, climbing rocky peaks for chukars, or heading into the forest for grouse and quail. It’s simply a great feeling shotgun that performs, always.
Note: Scott Haugen is a full-time writer of nearly 25 years. Learn more at scotthaugen.com and follow his adventures on Instagram and Facebook.
