The ringneck pheasant, like most of the people living on the plains, is a second-stage immigrant. Its successful introduction on the Great Plains is commonly dated from private efforts in Spink County, South Dakota in 1908-09. The state commenced releasing pairs in 1911, then went big in 1913, releasing 5000 birds. Although Chinese in ancestry, they came from a game farm near Chicago.
Although South Dakota is the state that makes the most of its ringneck history — and I love that pheasant-on-a-stick monument along the highway in Redfield — Kansas actually preceded it in successful introduction, with 3000 birds in 1906. The Sunflower State remains among the top producers of pheasants, but it has been slipping. Although we don’t talk much about it, I suspect a warming climate is a factor in this — as well as in the increase of bobwhite quail in some parts of the state.
North Dakota was not among the pioneers in establishment of ringnecks on the prairies. Authorities here, searching for a gamebird to replace the native grouse, which were in decline post-settlement, put their money on the Hungarian partridge, and had good success with it. The Flickertail State acquired a pheasant population largely through undocumented immigration — birds slipping across the border from South Dakota. The folks in Ellendale and Zeeland failed to police the border, I guess.
Ringneck pheasants, as state departments like to tout, are great for economic development, but they also are a cultural catalyst. Pheasants, because they can be pursued effectively by large groups of hunters operating in teams, are the pretext for annual reunions of families and friends.
Then the bagged birds go home with the individual hunters — to an uncertain fate. These beautiful birds deserve appreciative and respectful culinary treatment in the kitchen and on the table.
Since at home on Willow Creek we frequently accumulate about a bushel of pheasants in the freezer by December, we have opportunity to experiment and develop skills in pheasant cookery. I think the first important thing to recognize is that a pheasant should be treated as two meals. The first features the dense white meat of the breast. The second utilizes the darker, more tendon-laced meat in the balance of the carcase.
We make pheasant breasts into a variety of fricassee dishes, each named after one of our Labrador retrievers. Banner’s Pheasant is finished with white wine and mushrooms and served on rice. Arnie’s Pheasant is simmered in red currant sauce with cubed buttercup squash and served with couscous. Angie’s Pheasant is a paprikash served on noodles.
The rest of the bird is simmered with onion and perhaps other veg to make a broth, then fashioned into a soup. The house favorite is a creamy concoction with wild rice. Pheasant and dumplings is a simpler and hearty alternative.
Freezer space remains an issue, however, especially when venison arrives in the house. We are attempting to resolve this issue through canning. Old ladies across the prairies, you know, used to can chickens. We find we can cut up a whole pheasant and fit it, bone-in, into a wide-mouth quart jar, then process it for 90 minutes in a pressure cooker. Be sure to pick the lead shot out before jarring the pieces.
Pheasant pie from canned birds is delicious, we already have determined — and there will be many more fine dishes concocted this winter from birds we have jarred and shelved. Every jar opened evokes the open fields from which the contents originated.
