Winter 2015

SPORT
yearn for Thanksgiving family get-togethers that would thus come to pass.
Outside, the Milky Way and constellations that once marveled us in
childhood whispered of mortality to my elder self. The widespread crust of
snow wisely counseled the use of a house Toyota Land Cruiser instead of that
puny rental import. More safari stalwart than mommy runabout, the decadeold
SUV with its honorable patina of ranch grime rattled along the graded road
for roughly a mile to my cabin overlooking a valley of feed plots and desert
flora—one of five guest accommodations partaking in the view, plus a “minilodge”
at the far end of the row.
The double-occupancy cabin provided abundant floor space for gear,
which counted on the bulky side since I had reached Highland Hills Ranch
straight from a duck hunt at Beaver Dam Lake in Mississippi, celebrated for
character and abundance by the definitive American outdoor writer, Nash
Buckingham.
Suddenly, it was so quiet.
Come morning, Chef Potter cooked delicious shirred eggs—a.k.a. eggs
baked in individual buttered gratin dishes. If baked eggs sound hideous, his
preparations, always enriched with cheese, varied from day to day and each
surprised with savory gratification. I had arrived as a baked-egg skeptic and
left Highland Hills Ranch as a convert.
Directly following breakfast, Mr. Batha conducted a safety and etiquette
clinic in the lodge. The time arrived to gear up. We would adhere to a fourday
schedule, immediately commencing with a simulated driven pheasant
clinic conducted by Mr. Batha. Days two and three of the actual shoot were
reserved for the Highland Hills Ranch British Driven Pheasant Shoot. We
would have a crack at more than 900 high-flying pheasants during three
drives per day. And day four would inevitably carry me to that heavenly plain
shooting chukars over dogs.
Our party of eight was driven on the rolling, curvy dirt roads and across
rock-strewn rivers and streams to a ravine bounded by escarpments. A
makeshift camp appeared, outfitted with tables, chairs, beverages, portable
gun racks and firewood. We confronted a 90-foot-high basalt cliff where two
trap machines threw overhead slow curling right and fast left targets. With gusts
exceeding 35 miles per hour in the wind-tunnel ravines, targets frolicked on the
currents —foreshadowing the wanton velocity of airborne pheasants.
The group’s knowledge of simulated driven-pheasant targets ran the
gamut. Champion shooter Michael Coleman, who was also a partner in
Windwalker Farm Sporting Clays in Stanton, Texas, donated his enormous
expertise and talent by coaching whenever Mr. Batha devoted personal
attention to shooters stuck on problem targets. Michael Kendrick, a longstanding
client of Mr. Batha, exhibited top form of the Churchill Method for
high, driven birds. While both men shot traditional British bird guns, Brian
Yamamoto executed seemingly impossible pheasant shots with his trickedout
clays gun, a Krieghoff K-80. The remaining participants covered the
skills spectrum, including quick-study Vivian
Pearce who elicited cheers from nearby pegs after
downing tricky pheasants.
In addition to catching up on the basics,
though, Mr. Batha’s clinic offered trigger time with a
new Perazzi MX20.
The Italian gunmaker is celebrated for
indestructible over/unders that routinely garner
gold medals in clays competitions worldwide—
including the Olympics. Bespoke and impeccable,
the design ethos akin to Formula 1 race-car
engineering leads upland hunters to preclude
Perazzi’s in their pursuit of a virtuoso bird gun.
During the demanding hunting schedule at
Highland Hills Ranch, I ultimately came to realize
that the Perazzi MX20 functioned as a 7½ pound
death ray for upland prey. Not quite as nimble as
other best 20 gauges from the likes of Purdey
or Holland & Holland, a standard MX20 cost
about one-tenth the price with precise, confident
handling that is worth the $11,000.
The MX20’s secret sauce has two leading
ingredients: supreme balance and intuitive trigger.
You could easily argue that it’s hefty for a field gun,
but shooting it for both driven and walk-up hunts
demonstrated consistent stability in shouldering,
pointing and timing. It imposed a measured yet
smooth style that forced you to reckon with the
bird at hand before triggering the shot. “Whippy”
is not in the MX20 idiom. You never worried that
a flushed bird would get away; when your eyes
locked on the chukar, you knew it was easily dead.
Perazzi’s are renowned for the barrel
regulation—meaning they accurately shoot where
you point. Some shotgun makers get sloppy with
barrel regulation and often the owner goes through
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