A mixed bag of mourning and white-winged doves is a common take for dove hunters in Imperial County. And each year, there seem to be more Eurasian doves as well. Photo by Mike Dickerson.

During opening day last year, I hunkered down in a grove of small citrus trees and was up to my nether regions in doves. However, there were a couple of problems with this seemingly ideal scenario.

First off, I had scant cover behind the skinny little plants. Despite my head-to-toe camo, I stuck out like a sore thumb.

Second, a powerful wind came up, and the Beretta 20-gauge over-and-under I clutched was, at that moment, equipped with open chokes.

Swarms of birds were smoking past, dipping, darting and mostly flaring out of range of my open patterns of target-grade No. 8.

My ratio of shells fired to birds bagged shall remain confidential, however. Suffice to say that it reaffirmed the reason why shot-shell manufacturers love dove hunters.

Rather than make the long trek back to the truck in the 100-plus-degree heat to change tubes, I stood my ground.

About the time I began to entertain thoughts of clubbing myself with the gun, I managed to execute a classic double on a pair of fast-stepping, hard-turning, right-to-left crossers.

In that moment, all was suddenly right with the world again.

IMPERIAL MAGIC
Welcome to dove hunting, Imperial County-style, where such magical moments are the norm rather than the exception.

This extreme southeastern corner of California may be forbiddingly hot, dry and dusty. But it’s world-famous for annually producing some of the wildest dove shooting north of the Mexican border.

Encompassing nearly 4,600 square miles, the county borders Mexico to the south, Riverside County to the north, San Diego County on the west, and Arizona and the Colorado River on the east. It is a mecca for dove hunters, and has been for decades.

Each Sept. 1, a group of those I refer to as “the usual suspects” and I make an annual pilgrimage there with what approaches religious zeal.

We’ve yet to be disappointed.

As good as the area is -- and as difficult as this may be for some to accept -- it’s only getting better in the minds of many dove shooters.

That’s because its patchwork of agricultural lands harbor tons of mourning doves. And in years when unseasonably cool temperatures and monsoonal thunderstorms don’t chase birds south, it shelters considerable numbers of white-winged doves.

There’s also a new element in this equation which elevates the region to triple-threat status in my book.

EURASIAN INVASION
That’s the arrival of the Eurasian collared dove. An invasive species, the Eurasians did not count against last year’s daily bag and possession limits in California.

The DFG basically winked at the notion that hunters could shoot them at will. Add to this happy circumstance the fact that mature Eurasian collared doves are considerably larger, somewhat slower and arguably dumber than either mournings or white-wingeds. That’s a situation tailor-made for some fast and furious scattergun action.

That’s especially true in Imperial County, where the Eurasians are showing up in increasing numbers.

Some hunters fear this “Eurasian invasion” may displace native doves. Because the birds have spread so quickly, the jury’s still out on that point. Other hunters take the viewpoint of “The more, the merrier.” The fact of the matter is, these birds are probably here to stay.

Across the southern U.S., Where the invasion has been heaviest, most states have set either no bag or possession limits -- or extremely high ones. Arizona, for example, allows hunters to shoot 25 Eurasian doves per day. That’s in addition to the standard bag limit of other species.

As this issue went to press, California was reportedly considering a “default” recommendation to the Fish and Game Commission that Eurasian collared doves simply be counted as part of the daily bag limit of 10 birds -- a recommendation likely to be met with considerable disagreement from concerned sportsmen.