When 40 pheasants had been released, the whistle blew again, signaling the end of the first round, and everyone moved one stand to his left. In this way each shooter got a chance from a variety of positions. High point of the shoot came in the afternoon with the release of a white pheasant. For bagging it, Earl F. Ranft, president of Dabar Haulage Co. of Jersey City, collected Club Limited's daily jackpot.
All in all, 350 birds were released to 22 guns that first day; 214 birds were killed. I had 52 shots and accounted for seven birds. The second day 350 were flown and 220 killed. This adds to a total of 700 pheasants released and 434 harvested, for a percentage of 62. Considering the fact that Club Limited is comprised of men who are excellent shots, the figure hardly represents a slaughter. Rather it is indicative of a highly sporting shoot, as far as demands on marksmanship are concerned.
There probably isn't a sportsman alive who, having tried and been rewarded with the merits of the European type of hunt, will not still miss the thrill of a dog making game in wild cover or the startling burst of a flushing wild bird. But a man can't have everything, and the Van Alen-type shoot—if lacking in these respects—has great appeal for the man who enjoys a sporting challenge and who is limited in time rather than means. Van Alen will arrange a pheasant shoot for seven to 20 guns at a minimum of 20 birds a gun. At $5 a bird this amounts of $100 a day per gun. At the moment there are few other such public shoots in the country. But, as more and more men turn to preserve shooting in the future, it is likely that shoots such as Jimmy Van Alen's will come into their own. They will have to. There simply doesn't seem to be any more sporting way to shoot a pheasant.