Memorable quotes to think about as the bird seasons approach

matto said:
I'm surprised there's nothing yet from Datus Proper's Pheasants of the Mind. I've read it, I loved it, and I own a copy, but it's been years. Now I'm going to dig it out.
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I went on a 3 day hunting trip with him when I was a teenager in eastern Montana.My dad was his attorney.Interesting guy who had a German wirehaired pointer.
 
“If you hunt or fish a couple weeks in a row without reading newspapers or watching television, a certain not altogether deserved grace can reenter your life.”— Jim Harrison, Off to the Side

Just found this thread. This quote really stuck with me, I think after the last few weeks we would all be better off if we did this.
 
I put this quote attributed to Henry David Thoreau on a photo I took going out fishing in Cabo years back for a canvas print.
I would think the thought applies to "hunting" as well.......
 

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I am sure for some folks it could be "Get the hell off my land!" Or " I have already called the cops"' or "How didn't you see the No Tresspassing on sign?".
 
A bird in the hand.

and one of my most said and least adhered to sayings "Never leave biting fish"
 
Chessie guy here. Yes, not typical for uplands, but that's all I do these days since waterfowling is a young man's game. But this quote always gets me:

“The big Chesapeake showed what a marvelous breed he was by leaping into the freezing water, swimming swiftly to the edge of the ice, then breaking a way for himself, right to the goose. Clutching the big bird proudly in his jaws, he plunged into the icy water, pushed aside the frozen chunks and returned to the blind, entering it with a mighty water-spraying leap. “That’s what I call a dog,” Jake said proudly. And the men agreed.”

—James A. Michener’s “Chesapeake: The Watermen,” 1972

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"I can recall hunting behind about two dozen pointing dogs. I remember some stirring moments when everything worked as it should have: The dog, sailing through the cover, slammed into a point-the hunters advanced, guns clutched, hearts thudding-the birds rushed out-the shot-the fall. (And finally, sometimes, a half-hearted retrieve, which seemed more a post-script to the action than a part of it.) I remember more vividly the interminable hallooing, berating, and whistle shrilling, the application of electric jolts through shock collars, the glimpses of distant dogs and faltering points and birds decamping beyond shotgun range, the times a dog bumped a game bird and I glumly watched it fly off, knowing that if I shot I would be condemned for reinforcing a canine faux pas."

Charles Fergus- A Rough Shooting Dog, The First Season of a Hunting Spaniel (164-166)
 
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