An Earth-Shattering Dove Hunt

Dove hunters afield in Oklahoma during the season’s opening weekend got more than they bargained for—

Few hunting experiences can match the frantic fervor of wingshooting mourning dove on opening weekend. The sportsman goes from composed to desperately shoving shells into an empty gun in just a matter of seconds. On a good day, this continues until the bag is filled and it is time to gather around the tailgate to pluck birds. Such was the case this year as I welcomed the coming of fall with the celebratory dove hunt with my parents.

In typical fashion we hunted a small combined cornfield where the doves would feed in the morning and early evening. Early season scouting had revealed a good number of doves loafing on the power-lines adjacent to the field and the county road. These doves would fly down to the field to feed and to drink from the small pond on the premises. It was the perfect setup. When we arrived early on Saturday, September 3^rd 2016 it was plain that the day would be bountiful. Barely had the sun risen when the birds started filtering into the field. I situated myself against a large oak that stood stalwart as the only major tree in the field. Fortunately, the tree was also positioned by the property’s watering hole. The birds were buzzing by and my dad had already taken a brace by 7:02 A.M. It was at this point that I looked over my shoulder to see his shotgunnery when I noted a pair of doves on the power-lines spanning the uncut corn. While watching these birds perch mockingly, I was suddenly made aware of the rumble of a distant locomotive.

This was peculiar. Although I often heard trains passing through the nearest town in dead quiet nights I had never noted the sound during the day. What sounded initially like a coal engine was quickly identified once my oak tree backdrop began creaking and my stool suddenly felt unstable. An earthquake! The event had me partially dumbstruck. I could hear my dad yelling in increasing tenor from across the field. “Can you feel it? Can you feel it!?” as the  earth pitched and rolled like a galley on dangerous seas. Though there was no real danger (at least not for us), the experience was quite disconcerting. What struck me most, though, was the little pond. Although I was unable to put together the facts of the situation at the time, the earthquake was causing some minor phenomena in the water.  Glancing at its surface I was puzzled to see a steady stream of bubbles gurgling up to the top. Near the center there was a 2 ft. diameter circle where the disturbance was marked.

The whole shaking episode seemed to last at least two minutes. Yet, who can trust their own perception in a time like that? I didn’t keep track of time but it was definitely one of the longest earthquakes that I have felt and there have been a lot of them in Oklahoma in recent years. We finished out the hunt without further drama. Despite my lack of practice, I managed to down and recover 13 birds. This was a great opportunity to try out a recipe that I had been eyeing, Doves a la Mancha. I got plenty of odd looks at home when I insisted that we fully pluck the birds instead of just removing the breasts. However, once I grilled them per Chef Hank Shaw’s recommendation, those reservations completely disappeared. Our family now agrees that Doves a la Mancha is the go-to recipe whenever we harvest a member of the Columbidae family.

Although all dove openers are memorable, this year’s story stands out. The mental Polaroids of perfect shots and the taste of fine dishes will fade. Can we say the same about the earthquakes? As sportsmen-conservationists (those two are inseparable) we are called to be stewards of the land. Each one of us knows that we should pick up our shotshells, to abide the law, and to protect the landscapes that provide us with cherished recreation and sustenance. Yet, it seems like many of us are all-too-willing to disavow the accepted science and insist that potentially dangerous wastewater disposal practices are continued. In Oklahoma, the petroleum industry is the economy. Sure, we have a strong and respected tradition of agriculture. Yet, the threshold for entry into agricultural practices gets higher every year. Folks that can’t afford arable acreages and expensive farm equipment become agricultural laborers (for low pay) or they go to the oil field (for increasingly low pay).

What we don’t do is bite the hand that feeds us.  The petroleum industry in Oklahoma puts food on the table and is undoubtedly a major political powerhouse. How then, do we promote environmental stewardship and public safety? More bluntly, how do end the fracking earthquakes (as one of my old emergency management professors calls them)? The first step has to be education. Oklahomans are intrinsically skeptical of regulation. They will not abide restrictions on wastewater injection any more than they would abide restrictions on firearms ownership.  Yet, wastewater injection wells will not be voluntarily relinquished. The only way for any regulation to be viable is for it to be sufficiently limited in scope (i.e. limitation of injection well depth, not a blanket ban) and for its value to be understood by the public.

 

In order such changes to be publically viable the issue has to be salient. Given that the September 3^rd 2016 Pawnee earthquake was the largest in recorded history in Oklahoma (5.8 MM) then it is likely that the issue is salient. This salience creates a policy window or mitigation window when the public is willing to accept change. This means that policymakers have to act rapidly to involve stakeholders, communicate messages, and garner support. Otherwise, they may have to wait until the next man-made earthquake strikes Oklahoma. How large will that one be?