The rock dove is familiar to us around the barns of rural America and the city streets of the major metros. Where I was, the back country of the North Cascade mountains, there were neither. Only huge firs, cedars and hemlocks -no cars and no people. I was there, hoping to find hungry native rainbows. Perched on a streamside boulder nearly the size of a VW bus, my focus was on casting to a pool that surely held big trout. But that mental intentness was broken when out of the corner of my eye I saw a large flock of birds rushing along the water coursing toward me.

At first glance, they looked like the barnyard denizens. In a direct and deliberate manner the flock of 30-plus birds swept past, cutting a large swathe toward a dead Douglas fir. They alighted there, in the snag, 80 yards away.

Boulder-hopping down stream, I approached for a second look. The birds got cagey as I got closer. Taking pause for the best look I was going to get, the birds flushed. A loud and distinctive clap-clap-clap-clap of wings beating the air, filled that little portion of space where tree meets sky. In a brief moment, the commotion was over and the flock was gone, leaving this teenager with a sense of wonderment-that sense of discovery endemic to youth, of finding something new on the land.

Some 18 years later now, and with great fortune, the coming of September rekindles that wonderment. The approaching autumn spurs the birds southward and coincidental with the dusky grouse season in New Mexico, the bandtail season is open for a brief period as the migrants pass through.

Two races, or subspecies, of bandtails occur in the West. The Pacific coast race breeds from British Columbia southward to Baja California. The interior race, sometimes referred to as the Four Corners bandtails, breed in Utah, Colorado, Arizona, New Mexico and Texas, and in the Sierra Madre Occidental of western Mexico. Both races winter in the southern ends of their breeding range. The Four Corners birds are generally smaller and paler in color compared to the coastal birds.

These birds have been known to science since 1820. Naturalist Thomas Say was a founding member of the Philadelphia Academy of Natural History, the Academy that President Jefferson sent Meriwether Lewis to for his science training. Say accompanied Major Stephen Long's expedition to Colorado in 1819, trying to find the headwaters of the Platte River. Long failed in his objective, but Say brought back with him to Philadelphia many new specimens of animals, including the band-tail pigeon. Early accounts of bandtails talk of large flocks - numbering in the thousands - passing overhead.

Band-tailed pigeons must be resolute to return to their summer haunts. Come early March they leave the wintering grounds, and just a few weeks later the vanguard shows up where they remain all summer. They have a strong attachment to their birthplace or previous nesting sites. The breeding birds are mated to each other for life. That mating starts on the northward trek as many birds are paired by the time they arrive in the north.

Males pronounce their intentions by perching atop a tall snag and uttering at intervals a loud two-note coo, sounding more like an owl than pigeon. He occasionally launches himself into the air, wings and tail outstretched, circles once making a chirring sound before alighting back in the same perch. These rituals are usually played out in the early parts of morning and evening, and the male will defend up to five acres of territory.

Both parents-to-be take part in nest building. Made of coarse twigs, the nests are rather unsophisticated platforms placed in the notch between the trunk and branch. They are usually at least 20 feet of the ground and approach a saucer shape. The coarseness of the nest bottom keeps the eggs from rolling around. The bandtail sometimes nests in colonies and may produce three broods in a season.

One, but sometimes two, pure white eggs are incubated by both parents in distinct shifts. The male takes over in the late morning and the female relieves him by late afternoon. In about 20 days a yellow-downy squab hatches, leaving the nest about 25 days later.

In the first two weeks of life, the squab is fed nothing but pigeon milk. This yellow curd-like fluid, with more protein and fat than cow's milk, is secreted in the crop of both parents and regurgitated for the squab. As the squab grows, the amount of milk decreases and seeds and berries given to the young increases. By the time the young fledge, it's weaned from milk and has a diet like that of the parents. The fledgling is then ready to glean acorns, pinyons and berries from the trees and will grow to about 15 inches and weigh around one pound. Migrating birds are apt to stop and eat domestic cherries, oats, and wheat on their way south.

It's during the migrations that band-tailed pigeons come in season. They provide unparalleled and challenging shooting in beautiful mountain settings. Despite that, they were not recognized as a game bird until given protection under the Migratory Bird Law of 1913.

Two methods take bandtails, both requiring scouting, patience, and a retriever. One can lie in wait in mountain saddles for birds passing to and from feeding areas. Here in the Southwest with a paucity of water, pass shooting near a watering hole proves up birds.

One can also scout out roost trees for late afternoon shooting. Joseph Grinnell in his 1918, Game Birds of California suggested, "For sneaking up on birds, a 'duck gun' is recommended. Ten pigeons are considered a good day's bag." Indeed it would, but today's bag limits are much less, usually just two birds per day.

Often it's they arrowy rush that you hear before seeing a bird, the banded tail and obvious white crescent on an iridescent neck is a giveaway. These birds are fast flyers reaching 60 mph in cruising flight. They come past you in a direct manner, wings held close, beating only at long intervals, tipping from side to side. Challenging targets they are, even for the experienced gunner who'll need a 12- or 20-gauge with high-brass 6s. The rough terrain and heavy cover necessitates a retriever.

Their value as table fare is open to argument. Some hunters complain of sharp-tasting meat. To that, Grinnell offered this culinary advise. "If the flesh has become 'strong' by reasons of the bird's acorn diet, soaking in brine flavored with vinegar or lemon will remove the disagreeable taste. After such treatment, the birds should be broiled, or baked in a pot pie."

Hunting seasons today are quite abbreviated, two weeks or less, given the conservation status of these birds. Natural enemies are few. But fluctuating mast, low reproduction rates coupled with habitat loss make these birds vulnerable to over harvest. And frankly, the future does not look promising. The North American Breeding Bird Survey, an annual large-scale survey of breeding birds, shows some steep declines in bandtail numbers. From 1980 to 1998, band-tailed pigeons in California dropped about four percent each year. Similarly, populations in Oregon and Washington dropped six to seven percent.

Let's hope these trends don't portend the future of these fast flyers. My heart would be heavy without that rekindling -the expectation that pigeons are headed my way.

Craig Springer holds a bachelor's and master's degree in fisheries and wildlife ecology from Hocking College, New Mexico State University, and the University of Arizona. He's about to receive a master's in English from the University of New Mexico where he's concentrated on the rhetoric of science and nature.