A late night beer(s) and my thoughts

B

Bob Peters

Well-known member
Pheasant season has come and gone, and not a day goes by that I don't think about the memories from last years hunts. I know a few people poked fun at me when I posted my journal numbers, noting that I took a general accounting of birds missed and hens flushed. I've only been doing this seriously for two years but I'm so glad I've had the opportunity to walk the marshes and fields behind a good dog. I feel like I could pheasant hunt every day until I die or never again, and it wouldn't make a difference. I'll never forget the time I've spent following my four legged friend looking for a wild pheasant. The look on her face when she made a good retrieve, how proud she was of that early season young bird, or that late season wily old rooster. It's tough to say if anything can match the love of a good bird dog. Even with all that's going on in the world, I feel lucky to live where I live and that I got a few precious days walking the fields with a hard working and loving dog that wanted nothing more than to hunt with me as a partner and friend working to a common goal. tttt.jpg
 
Bob, you have a beautiful dog there. My first bird dog was a fine Golden; got him in 1990 when the Farm Bill of 1985 had by then produced a good number of CRP acreage near our home. Lad and I learned to hunt pheasants, ducks and quail together and we had a number of wonderful seasons between 1991 and his death in 2001. That dog would retrieve anything and was a stalwart performer on Huns, Sharptails and waterfowl in North Dakota as well as pheasants and quail in Iowa and here in Indiana. My children grew up with him and I miss him still. I hope your dog gives you as much pleasure and great memories as my Golden gave, and still gives me.
 
Your dog is lucky to have a master like you.
 
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