If you relish the company of birdy dogs and the cackle of a ringneck pheasant, we have sad news: Minnesota's Mr. Pheasant has checked out.

Maynard Nelson of New Ulm, Minn., died at the age of 76 on a late October weekend, ironically the time of year he relished as a hunter and career fighter for the future of pheasants in his native state.

In his final years, Maynard suffered from Alzheimer's and, as fate would have it, probably didn't know what kind of boom of late Minnesota's ringneck population has experienced. But Maynard dreamt it.

For decades, starting in 1954 when he began working for the Minnesota Conservation Department (now Department of Natural Resources), Maynard's every working hour had something to do with pheasants and their fate.

His was a consummate dedication for a natural resource. You could hear it in his voice. He pleaded for commonsense in federal farm programs long before there was any.

"Maynard knew the farm program was a big answer for how to produce pheasants in Minnesota, but it also was his biggest source of frustration," said Larry Nelson (no relation), the state's Department of Natural Resources director of fish and wildlife.

In those days, there was no Pheasants Forever organization to lobby for ringnecks in Washington, D.C. Maynard often was a lone voice. Lone but tireless.

We spent many moments together talking pheasants and how to undo the black belt that was Minnesota's farm country in the 1970s.

Maynard was raised as a boy in Blooming Prairie, Minn. He often reflected about the pheasant heydays he knew as a young hunter.

But he knew they were gone forever unless some prairie again bloomed around his hometown.

As the state's pheasant research specialist, starting in 1960, Maynard studied almost every aspect of a ringneck's life, ranging from the impact of predators to the value of minerals in the bird's diet.

A book he co-authored, "Rugged Ringneck," described the trials and tribulations of a wild bird in the heart of Minnesota's best farm country.

Maynard retired from the DNR in 1984, but he told his successor — pheasant biologist Al Berner, who had a Ph.D. — that "the best way to learn about pheasants was to be out there in the field with 'em."

One winter day Maynard invited a young newspaper reporter to head for western Minnesota into the teeth of a blizzard to see firsthand what pheasants were up against to survive.

We became stranded by snowdrifts for two days in Hoffman, Minn.

To experience the Northern blizzard, Maynard stood for a moment along the edge of a country road. Suddenly his fedora hat blew off and quickly vanished in the wind.

Maynard returned to the car and sat quiet and bareheaded for a minute or two.

"Well," he said, finally, "I suppose my hat's in Iowa by now."

But his point was made.

Without winter habitat, there was no future for pheasants (or his hat) in a state known for tough winters. Today, federal farm programs have a place for wildlife habitat developments and pheasant-specific help.

We have millions of acres of Conservation Reserve Program (CRP) land and even the president of the United States knows about CRP and its wildlife values.

Attitudes are changing down on the farm and in Washington.

Fencerow-to-fencerow farming is not the only economic answer anymore. We've drained and tilled until our ducks are always down and our rivers always flood.

"Maynard may not get the credit but he laid the foundation," Larry Nelson said.

Sadly, Maynard's final days and weeks were lost to the tragedy of Alzheimer's. But there's good news, too:

Maynard's vision — to secure a place for ringneck pheasants in Minnesota — is alive and blossoming.

Ron Schara may be reached at ron@mnbound.com.

Schara's 250-page book, "Ron Schara's Minnesota Fishing Guide" (Tristan Outdoors; $19.95) is available by clicking here or by calling 888-755-3155.