In 1944, Brownwood was no longer a dusty Central Texas farm and ranch community.

Its normal population of about 15,000 had tripled to 45,000 or more thanks to the soldiers and nurses (and a few German prisoners of war) coming into town for training at the 123,000 acre Camp Bowie.

Replacement soldiers and pilots of the 36th Texas National Guard were constantly coming and going, heading to Europe and Africa for action in World War II. The influx started in 1940 when construction on the base had begun, and continued through 1946 when the base was deemed surplus by the U.S. War Department.

In the fall of 1944 James Hallum turned 10. One of four brothers whose parents farmed and ranched some hard-scrabble land near Brooksmith, Hallum was handed three 410 shells and a single shot shotgun. Despite all the military activity going on in the area, it was the opening day of dove season in Texas and Hallum was sent to the field with special instructions from his father.

“My daddy said, ‘Be sure and line them up son,'” Hallum recalled. Tuesday, the 75-year-old Brownwood resident was in the field on opening day for the 65th consecutive time. He doesn’t remember how many he killed with those three shells in 1944, but Tuesday he brought home a half-dozen birds from his morning hunt.

In Hallum’s youth, hunting wasn’t a social event. It was for food. Even though his family grew or raised almost all of the food it needed, hunting doves was considered a part of the food-gathering process. Boys being boys, however, there was something that kept it from being work.

On that first outing Hallum obliged his father’s instructions, waiting alongside a pond until he got several birds lined up before shooting. Even with just three shells, more than three birds were expected.

While cattle ranching and wheat farming have become the dominant agricultural operations in Brown County, Hallum said small landowners in the 1940s grew crops including oats, wheat, barley and possibly some milo. A few also had corn fields, but those didn’t attract doves like the others did.

“We did have some ponds to hunt. We had lots of flights of birds that would come to the ponds. Frankly, I was lucky because we lived in a section that a had few tanks. Most of them didn’t. The birds would light on the edge of the water and I remember times a couple of us boys would ease up on top of the dam and shoot,” Hallum said.

Even though just a 10-year-old, Hallum hunted alone his first year. When a brother two years his junior got old enough to go, both of them still hunted alone.

“Daddy kept us separated so we didn’t have an accident and shoot each other,” Hallum said.

When it came to gathering food for the table, Hallum learned it naturally.

“I remember one time my dad shot 11 birds with one shot off the limb of a tree,” he chuckled.

Hunting began at noon in Hallum’s youth. However, hunters were pretty much on the honor system. Seeing a game warden wasn’t a rare occasion, it just never happened. Still, his family followed the rules.

And despite all the soldiers in town he doesn’t remember any of them hunting. That includes the 27 workers who, while building the Army base, were boarders in the Hallum household.

“They stayed in a spare bedroom and in the barn. Half of them were there in the daytime and half at night. My parents were reluctant to do it because no one in my family drank or smoked. My daddy was afraid of the barn burning down and said if he caught any of them smoking he would kick them out,” Hallum said.

Out-of-town hunters didn’t start showing up in Brownwood until the 1970s or ’80s. That has led to a vibrant commercial hunting situation in the last 15 years.

While Brown County is today considered one of the top dove-producers, Hallum said the hunting might have been better in his youth.

“To me, back then there seemed to me more birds because they were more concentrated in the afternoon coming to water. It also seemed like we did not get as many showers right before the season started to push them out,” he said.

Hallum said his best dove hunt wasn’t one that first year. It came much later before his parents died.

“My brother had some land northeast of town that had a field of sunflowers in it. I have never seen as many birds in my life. You could shoot until you couldn’t touch the end of the shotgun,” Hallum said.

His most memorable hunt was one on some ranchland he owned in San Saba County.

During a stint in the Navy, Hallum formed a friendship with two sailors from Tennessee. While they often bragged of how good their quail hunting was, he tried to explain Texas dove hunting and why it was so special.

“They had never had a good dove hunt so I talked them into coming down after we got out of the Navy. I had 175 acres of combined maize. The stubble was about knee high and doves would come in by the hundreds and hundreds in the afternoon,” Hallum said.

Like most hunts the day started slowly. Hallum told his impatient visitors to wait, it would pick up.

“I told them to wait 20 minutes. You have never seen two boys have more fun,” he said.

While neither Brown County nor dove hunting is anything like it was 65 years ago, Hallum is one of those guys who sees the cup as always being at least half-full. The outfitters have replaced the 10-year-old skillet shooting a mess of birds by just walking out his front door. Hallum is OK with that.

“We only hunted in one place. Now we are hunting different leases wherever the birds are,” Hallum said after wrapping up one more opening day.

The fact he has been dove hunting 65 years doesn’t come as a surprise to those who know him. Hallum is a man who seems to stick with whatever he begins. From 1962 until two years ago he took annual elk hunts to Colorado. Also, he and his wife, Norita, have been in the floral business in Brownwood for 54 years. A 65-year commitment to dove hunting doesn’t seem that unusual.

Editors Note: This article originally appeared in the Tyler Morning Telegraph written by outdoor reporter Steve Knight & is used with permission.  Please see original article at www.TylerPaper.com