It’s an understandable error this time of year to think pheasant hunting is South Dakota’s sole reason for existence. 
  To those who think of bird hunting as a solitary pursuit—a hunter walking through tall grass behind a stylish Setter or two—a pheasant drive through a Midwestern cornfield requires some mental adjustment. 
  Pheasant hunting in South Dakota is a noon-to- sunset affair. The half-day hunting may be more for preventing hunters from working themselves to death than for giving birds a break. 
  Beginning with the third Saturday in October, thousands of non-residents join thousands of local men, women, and kids in pursuit of several million pheasants. 
  My friend Bob lived in South Dakota years ago. When old friends invited him to Wessington Springs to hunt pheasants, Bob invited me. 
  Those of us hardened by city life can be overwhelmed by the generosity of country people. 
  Marlene fed us huge dinners. David took time out of his 18-hour workdays to show us which widely scattered fields we could hunt and sometimes played hooky to hunt with us. 
  The corn harvest ran late this year. 
  Many farmers cut wide strips out of their quarter-section fields so hunters can easily drive pheasants from one end to the other. The fields Bob and I had been invited to hunt had not yet been cut at all. 
  It's almost a military operation—skirmish lines driving birds half a mile through cornfields toward blockers at the ends. Small groups join forces to drive the large fields. 
  Many hunters do not know each other, so the first order of business in large groups is to discuss safety rules. 
  Some of South Dakota’s hunting laws are surprisingly permissive to those of us accustomed to thick pamphlets of complicated restrictions. 
  Orange clothing is not required for bird hunting in South Dakota, though most hunters wear it for safety. 
  Road hunting is permitted. 
  Birds that fall onto private land may be retrieved without permission by unarmed hunters on foot. 
  Loaded guns may be carried in cars, and some small game animals may be shot from cars and at night with lights! 
  Except for hunting migratory birds, shotguns aren’t restricted to three shells.  
  I decided to stay with the rules I was accustomed to so I wouldn’t have to retrain myself when I got back home. That decision didn’t last long. 
  Law limits hunting groups to 20 members, so some uncut fields require five sweeps rather than the preferred one. That's 2-1/2 miles of hard, fast walking in close rows of tall, dense, dusty corn, talking all the time to push birds and to let unseen drivers a few rows over know where the rest of the line is. 
  Most birds run. You can sometimes see them sprinting ahead in the row you’re walking. Deer and rabbits leap from underfoot. 
 Sometimes a pheasant will launch itself up through the dry cornstalks with a clatter of wings, and either someone yells “Hen!” or a shotgun booms, but most of the action comes at the end of the last sweep. 
  Birds that haven’t slipped through the line of drivers finally fly. Dozens of pheasants blast off in quick succession. Guns boom, hunters yell, feathers fly, and a few birds fall. 
  Then, after excited talk and kidding of those who missed easy shots, we’d pile into cars and trucks, drive to another field, and do it all again. 
 I finally pulled the plug out of my shotgun so I could load five shells instead of just three. I got tired of watching roosters fly over my head while I fumbled to reload. 
  Our hosts paid me the highest of compliments: They invited me back next year. 
  I’d be a fool to decline.