I've had a touch of covid 22 or a cold, not sure which. We slep in today, and watched football. About 1:30 the dogs were getting wound up and looking at me like I'm a bum. I throw on the old patched up brush pants, case the gun, collar the pups and off we go, to the exact same spot we started at yesterday. Never hunt the same spot twice they say. I just had to know. Walking the gravel road a smart old bird flushed silently way off. Halfway down the thicket line, both dogs are full of vinegar and working at a furious pace. Disappearing into a red willow bush I suddenly hear an ear piercing cackle, the old king of the marsh let loose in all his anger for being disturbed from his cozy roost-throne. Then he flew crossing L to R in front and around some mature trees. I let loose and managed to knock off some bark
. Next spot the young dog got hot and charged into the cattail/cane break. As I followed her course by watching the grass shake, out of the corner of my eye I catch a flash as a rooster silently flushed just a bit out front of the dog. He quickly dipped out of sight behind the phragmites. This cattail patch is about 8 acres, and there's a spot the birds always seem to like, I'm not sure why. We were on the edge and a hen flushed, then loud cackling and a rooster rising above the marsh. Out there a ways I leveled up and sent the shot column. POOF! Feathers everywhere. I charged in, a tough mark, headed straight towards a power pole marked in the distance. Threw an orange ribbon on a tall tail, called the dogs and began looking. Nothing nothing, nothing. Losing a shot bird, a reality in this sport, but that doesn't make it any easier. Every time a dog ran by I looked for a bird in her mouth. Just when I gave up hope, here comes the old girl with a beautiful late season rooster still alive in her chops. Man, that made my whole trip. One more day to go. What a season.
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