The Preserve at Boulder Hills

June 4, 2020 Fishing,Hunting,SCA Articles

Paul Mihailides, the owner, founder and developer of The Preserve at Boulder Hills, aspired to create a club for sporting set in a region that traditionally contained a tremendous number of hunters and anglers.

The southwest wind luffed softly on this November day. Sailors along the ocean 20 minutes away lamented, for their sheets would hang vertically along the masts. There was a tinge of salt in the air, a smell that made me think of the pristine South County beaches in Rhode Island. This was the last push of the fall run, and the beaches had to be on fire with blitzing striped bass and savage bluefish. Rips, current seams and harbor entrances to salt ponds likely were loaded with speedy bonito and false albacore. The fish would be gone any day, and that thought made me wonder why I stood in a shooting butt made from stacked pines, waiting for the horn to blow.

Indian Summer had popped up again and created a day so glorious I wished the season wouldn’t end. When the morning sun crested over the trees, the dew burned off quickly, leaving behind rolling hills pockmarked in vibrant color. Sugar maple leaves, now turned a stunning red and orange, were interspersed by the buttery gold color found on white birch and aspen.

Fall is hunting and shooting season and that’s why I had come to The Preserve at Boulder Hills. Ocean states typically are characterized by low elevations and flat, near-sea level terrain. But here, the elevation is the second highest in the state and offers incredible diversity.

My first peg featured a perfect look at a center island mixed with hardwoods and pines situated at the top of a knoll. When the pheasants appeared high over the treetops, they wasted no time heading for the woods behind me. These highflying birds were reminiscent of a classic English driven shoot and required a sustained lead technique combined with proper footwork.

A few stations later, I stood in a hillside peg surrounded by trees. A narrow field separated me from the center woods, and the pheasants appeared quickly. Sustained lead was replaced by a smooth, steady swing-through so I could take them before they disappeared in the leafy canopy. Later on, at the top of the hill, was a peg that looked like upland woodcock cover. Primary growth several feet tall mixed with short, squat pines soaked up every bit of open space. Better use a snap shot here, for the pheasants were descending in a zig-zagging pattern.

I had arrived in Rhode Island the preceding evening and enjoyed after-dinner drinks in the main clubhouse with Paul Mihailides, the owner, founder and developer of The Preserve at Boulder Hills. His dream was to create a club for the sporting set in a region that traditionally contained a tremendous number of hunters and anglers. It’s a legacy project, because large tracts of open land in old, settled states are a high commodity.

It’s for that reason that I’m shocked when folks say they have never visited Rhode Island. Maybe its diminutive size suggests there isn’t much to do? Or perhaps that the Ocean State nickname implies nothing but sand and surf. There are reasons that the Astors and Vanderbilts summered in Newport, for Rhode Island offers an intimacy not found in regions offering many more square miles of space.

In the morning, anglers at Newport can catch striped bass in front of Marble House, the setting for Robert Redford’s rendition of The Great Gatsby. Only now you can arrive to shoot pheasants at the club in the afternoon. Everything and everyone is close by, which makes that kind of approach possible.

Mihailides walked me through the 15,000-square-foot Sport Shoppe, which displays a tremendous array of distinctive sporting products, including firearms. One rack held an extensive collection of bespoke Famars shotguns. A few years ago, Mihailides purchased the company so as to resurrect and continue its longstanding tradition of building fine handmade guns. While there, I was able to preview two prototype shotguns that are currently in R&D.

I spent my night in one of the recently completed homes that are part of the member rental pool. My two-bedroom unit had a kitchen, dining area and living room. All of the homes are tucked away behind a stand of white pines but still a close walk to the main campus.

My roommate was a longtime friend, Lars Jacob of Lars Jacob Wingshooting. Jacob is an industry-best gunfitter, shooting instructor and gun aficionado, and his schedule included shooting instruction, gun fittings and coaching the finer art of shooting feathers to new shooters. He brought along some fine shotguns, including a 1920s-made Charles Ingram from Glasgow. The 12 bore featured 30-inch tubes choked light modified and improved modified, ideal dimensions, and a comfortable 3/8-inch cast-off. His Ingram joined a number of fine shotguns at the shoot.

Wayne Trudeau was my shooting partner whom I met at the Hunter’s Breakfast. Over a selection of omelets-any-way, eggs to suit, a variety of sides, pastries and delicious coffee, I learned that Trudeau was a former Olympic downhill skier for Team Canada. He competed against Andy Mill and Bodie Miller, and with ours being an Olympic year, we talked about skiing and the Games. Continental shoots always seem to be pockmarked by interesting folks who have stories to tell.

A string of nearly two-dozen golf carts transported us to and from our butts. One of the buildings we passed on the way houses an indoor shooting range.

“It’s the longest in the country,” said Wayne. “It’s climate controlled with a state-of-the-art ventilation system. It has four 150-yard rifle lanes and 16 rifle and pistol lanes, each 33 yards long. And there are no caliber restrictions.”

A recent golfer left behind a few tees in a cup holder. He likely played a round on the 18-hole Executive par 3 course. After a warm-up round of high-incomers, crossing targets and straight-aways, I saved a few spent shells in the cup holder. Maybe spent brass from the range would be a good idea, too.

A number of shooters opted for an afternoon walk-up hunt. They took to the corn, millet and broomstraw fields where the guides handled a wide variety of dogs. The kennels were full of English pointers and setters, in addition to flushing breeds such as labs, springers and golden retrievers.

Walk-up hunts are always a good way to burn calories prior to cocktails and an evening dinner. Fortunately, there was plenty of huntable acreage at the Preserve, for our evening dinner consisted of a petite filet and Maine lobster tail, mini bison meatballs, roasted pheasant with endive, and a Scotch and cigar pairing.

All good things unfortunately come to an end. As I left The Preserve at Boulder Hills, I saw a few members fly-rodding for trout. I imagined the brookies and rainbows would be brightly colored, while the browns would have pitch-black markings, flame-red dots and golden flanks. Part of me wished I had packed a 5-weight and my trout gear, but the stripers and albies were waiting. After a short drive, I’d pull on my waders, walk to the water carrying my chest pack and 10 weight. Everything is close in Rhode Island. That’s a great thing, because it makes everything possible.