Text: Torben Møller-Nielsen Photos: Torben Møller-Nielsen and The Preserve Sporting Club
When I received an invitation to participate in an event called "The Glorious Nineteenth" at a place called The Preserve in Rhode Island, USA, I had no idea that this type of pheasant hunting existed in the USA. The idea behind the arrangement was that on October 19th, when pheasant season opens in Rhode Island state, The Preserve Sporting Club & Residence would arrange a pheasant hunt, after which all the pheasants would be driven to a restaurant in New York, where they would be served as the year's first birds – somewhat like we once had race drivers who drove down for the year's first harvest of Beaujolais Nouveau, which was then served to celebrities in Copenhagen. I have previously hunted grouse, raccoons, squirrels, and other game in the USA, but I haven't tried pheasants there before, so I said yes and booked a ticket to Boston, which is the nearest international airport two hours' drive from The Preserve.
A BIT OF A CAR ENTHUSIAST, ONE ALWAYS IS
I had been told that I would be picked up at the airport and had actually expected to look for a pickup truck. But I learned better. I got a message that I should look for an SUV with the name Preserve on the grille, which was parked right outside the arrivals hall. It turned out to be a Bentley Bentayga Mulliner, which is one of the largest and most expensive Bentleys you can get. I settled into a small ballroom upholstered in hand-stitched leather, with massage seats, an independent infotainment system, and chilled champagne with crystal glasses. So it's no problem driving a couple of hours to the hotel. I asked Clinton, my chauffeur, who also turned out to be the hotel manager, if it was normal for guests to be picked up in such a vehicle. Yes, yes indeed, was the answer. The Preserve has made an agreement with Bentley, so they have five Bentaygas available at all times. It had gotten late when we arrived at the hotel, so I asked if it was possible to get a burger and some fries. Half an hour later there was a knock on the door, and I was presented with the most delicious burger with hand-cut fries and truffle mayo in living memory. It's also the first time I've had a burger made from ground Wagyu beef.
A HUGE FENCED AREA
The next day I was invited to a lunch meeting with Paul Mihailides, who is chairman of the board of The Preserve, and who would tell about the place and the hunt the next day. It turns out that the area of about 1,600 hectares was bought in 2010, developed in 2017, and opened in 2019 after an investment of over 400 million dollars. Less than 3% of the area is to be built up, and the rest is laid out for golf courses, clay pigeon ranges, lakes, trails, and not least nature. The Preserve has a collaboration with environmental authorities on nature conservation and protection measures for the rare species that are in the large, fenced area. Because the area is fenced and they breed pheasants themselves, they actually have the opportunity to do pheasant hunts all year round, just like in South Africa. The idea with The Preserve is to create a "club of clubs." That is, a club where it costs a small fortune to be a member, but where you and the whole family, in return, have the opportunity to have fantastic experiences, whether it's golf, tennis, riding, hunting, shooting, climbing, dining, or wellness. There's practically no activity you can't get. You can even take an off-road course in a Bentley Bentayga if you feel like it.
ITALIAN BEAUTIES
However, it's primarily the gunpowder and bullets that have my interest, and there I'm not disappointed. In the area lies a huge hunting and fishing store, The Sporting Shoppe, with everything the heart could desire. The Preserve has a collaboration with Beretta, but Paul Mihailides has also bought an Italian gun manufacturer, FAMARS, in the area of Brescia well-known to gun enthusiasts. The handmade Italian beauties start at around 20,000 dollars, and it was a selection of them that we shooters would use on the next morning's hunt. Under the hunting store, shooting ranges for rifles and handguns have been built. The ranges are 150 meters long, and there are many of them. I planned, together with a Scottish colleague, Richard, that we would first try shooting with pistols, and then take a trip out to one of the 19 stations with 4-6 machines each, and try how American clay pigeons fly. If nothing else, to get a little practice for the next morning's hunt, so we wouldn't fall completely through.
TRAINING WITH A SEAL
Down in the basement by the shooting ranges, we were welcomed by an instructor who was a former Navy Seal. It's The Preserve's clear position that if you're going to have an instructor, it should be a professional, whether it's for golf, tennis, or shooting. It was quite enjoyable to try three different 9mm pistols and find out that when the target gets to the other side of 10 meters, it becomes incredibly difficult to hit where you aim. This obviously has something to do with training, but I was still surprised by how hard it is to shoot accurately with a pistol. But fun – that it was!
LOTS OF CLAY PIGEONS
After the noise in the basement, it was nice to get out into the beautiful spring weather and try our skills with some clay pigeons. Our instructor drove us out to one of the 19 towers in the forest, where six throwers would surely make sure we got to practice with conditions especially for overhead and crossing birds. In true American style, the instructor had also brought a Remington semi-automatic, as that's what many Americans use. Fortunately, there was also a Beretta O/U, as neither my Scottish colleague nor I are big fans of semi-automatics. And it also seemed a bit silly to load five cartridges into the semi-auto when we shot a maximum of one shot at each clay pigeon. After seeing how the pigeons came out, we quickly agreed that the instructor should just throw two random pigeons. Then it was up to us to spot and hit them. It was fun! And I think the instructor enjoyed himself just as much as we did. A couple of hundred shots later we had had enough, and both Richard and I looked forward to the next morning's hunt with confidence in our own abilities intact.
LUXURIOUS SURROUNDINGS FOR BREAKFAST
Finally the day dawned when pheasants would come into the air. At group hunts in Denmark, it's normal to meet for coffee and rolls and maybe a schnapps. Something that typically takes place in a barn, hunting lodge, or campfire hut. It wasn't like that here. I had been told to show up in a room at the hotel, and that could be anything. But wow. A beautifully set table, view over the hotel's infinity pool, and a breakfast buffet with everything the heart could desire. We were eight invited guests, Richard and I from Europe, the rest from the USA. In addition, eight members of the club had shown up, who were obviously used to participating in this kind of arrangement. I gathered a plate with bacon and scrambled eggs, toasted bread, fresh-pressed juice, and a cup of coffee and sat down at the large table. There I sat between a celebrity chef (who would later serve the pheasants in New York) and a young entrepreneur from Rhode Island. Very friendly people, and the conversation flowed merrily around the table. Not a word about the upcoming presidential election, but about how to best prepare pheasant (schnitzel), which gun is the best (Beretta DT11), gas prices in the USA versus Denmark (three times as expensive in DK), and of course the weather, which with 20 degrees, a light breeze, and the fantastic colors of the New England fall foliage, promised the absolutely best setting for a lovely day.
400 BIRDS IN AN HOUR AND A HALF
At nine o'clock the gamekeeper at the place tapped on a water glass and began the day's briefing. All guests were teamed up with a member. When we reached the hunting ground, there would be eight stations and plenty of cartridges at each station. For us guests there would be a selection of FAMARS guns, and we could choose the one that suited us best. Behind each station there were 1-2 collectors with dogs, so we didn't need to think about where the birds ended up. After 10 minutes of shooting, there was a short break where you moved to the next station, so everyone got to try the different stations. The number of birds was set at 400. So one can ask oneself how they would ensure that 400 birds came past the eight stations in a steady stream and distributed somewhat evenly. The answer is that the stations are placed below an approximately 15-meter high ridge. Set back from the ridge top, cages with pheasants are placed, which are released in a completely controlled manner. I must admit that I had my thoughts when I heard this. I know about canned lions, but canned pheasants – that was new. From a hunting perspective, I feared the worst, but it would have to be put to the test.
A SLOW START
I had been teamed up with a friendly gentleman who was obviously used to shooting both clay pigeons and pheasants with his DT11. It turned out later that he was police chief for the entire state, but on a hunt, it's completely different things that count. I found myself a beautiful FAMARS with a reasonably short barrel, as I could quickly see that most shots would be variations of overhead shots, and that a relatively light and maneuverable gun might make life a bit easier for me. We were placed at Station 1, and the hunt was started. It didn't take many seconds before we could hear the first flutter of wings. And then pheasants came! Well-flying, high pheasants, which typically came in varying directions at a height of between 25 and 35 meters. The station next to us had a party, as most pheasants angled over toward them, but my partner and I did hit a couple. We were at least underway, and it was more missed chances than poor shooting that determined the bag at Station 1.
AND THEN I STOPPED COUNTING
The hunt was called off, and we walked the 30-40 meters to Station 2 with the same energetic step that thirsty men have when approaching a well-equipped bar. And I must say, things really got going. The next 10 minutes were the first time in my life where I could really have used a pair of double guns and a loader. As fast as I could load, that's how fast there were one or more birds in the air. Some came slowly and steadily, others like shot from a cannon. I had actually promised myself that I would count all my birds, but when I reached 10, I thought that the collectors behind us would have to keep track. If you had to pay for each bird, it would probably have been a different story, but here there was a total of 400 for 16 people, so it was just a matter of shooting away – so my teammate and I did that.
WHEN THINGS COME TOGETHER
Whether it was because of yesterday's clay pigeon shooting, a gun worth over 150,000 kr., or just luck, both I and my partner were unusually good shots that day. And I also suspect the gamekeeper of keeping an eye on where those of us guests who actually went hunting stood. Among the guests there was also a food writer, a fashion editor, and a chef who had never held a hunting rifle before, and I would think their combined bag from the day might have been 1-2 pheasants to share. The rest of us had a party. Shirtsleeves, lots of pheasants, and wonderful company. The hunt was conducted completely exemplarily. After an hour we held a little break and got a sip of water. Like most places in Denmark, alcohol was nowhere to be seen. Whether it was because the police chief was present, I don't know, but no one missed or asked for it. The police chief, by the way, made the day's most clever shot. He nabbed a fine cock in a quite high overhead shot while I was busy loading. I looked up just in time to see the stone-dead cock whirl down toward my gaping face. I had presence of mind enough to step one step to the right to avoid the bucket for our spent cartridge cases. Thump! it sounded as the cock landed right in the bucket. "Well, that was one for the bucket list," came dryly from the policeman, who later had to have all his friends come over to see the funny sight of the cock among the spent cartridge cases.
AMERICANS CAN COOK TOO
By 12 o'clock we were finished. Out of 400 birds, we had gotten around 370. That must absolutely be said to be approved. I would think I accounted for around 40 birds, and the police chief for about the same. The birds that had come through the day unscathed would have a walk-up arranged with pointing dogs the next day, but unfortunately we had to head home then. Now it was time for a hunting lunch, but we learned better. Since the weather was absolutely gorgeous, tables had been set outside. We were served a drink and offered a selection of canapés that were worthy of a Michelin restaurant. Sautéed jumbo shrimp, crostini with wild boar pâté, and mini Beef Wellington. Not an eye was dry. Paul Mihailides thanked us for good and safe shooting and a good bag, which was now on its way to New York in a couple of Bentleys. And then we were seated at a lavish table where one delicious dish followed another accompanied by exquisite American wines. It was hard work getting through it, but someone had to do it.
IS DENMARK CONCRETE COMMUNIST?
The conversation flowed merrily around the table, and the members I sat with were very interested in how we hunt in Europe in general and in Denmark in particular. They were somewhat flabbergasted by our rules with hunting licenses and gun permits, which they clearly thought must spring from a concrete communist approach to the firearms area, where the state controls everything. They could, however, see the advantage in that we had never had a school shooting, and that it also makes good sense to have a basic understanding of hunting, game, and weapons. Most of the members I talked to used the club as a kind of sanctuary on weekends, where they went out to shoot some clay pigeons with friends, practice a bit with bow, pistol, or rifle, and generally just get away from a busy everyday life. The good thing about the place is that one's wife and children also have something to do here, whether it's tennis, golf, riding, climbing, or just a spa stay with massage, beauty treatments, and whatever else goes with it. So the family doesn't feel it's an escape from home, but more a vacation together away from everyday life.
EXPENSIVE, BUT LOVELY
I must say that this extended weekend at The Preserve Sporting Club will not be forgotten. A completely amazing pheasant hunt – or shoot – as it more correctly is, wild luxury, and a fantastic area where everything is done to put the member/guest at the center. It also has its price, of course. If you want to be a member, a small fortune. As in several hundred thousand and up. But then there are also two jets on standby to pick you up. If you just want to visit the place and for example participate in a hunt like the one I was on, then the hunt costs a couple of thousand dollars and a hotel room costs from 1,000 dollars and up. If you want to do something good for yourself and take the family along, then The Preserve is absolutely a good bet for an activity vacation you'll never forget.
Americans can't understand at all how we can live without handguns.
SOURCE: JAGT, Vildt & Våben by TORBEN MØLLER-NIELSEN
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