Wednesday morning, 7am, and I'm sitting in traffic on 225. Gawd! I hate this road. Two and a half hours later and I pull up to my first field only to find two good friends walking out of it. Duke and I jump out of the truck and meet up with J and his new GSP pup Blue, and R, who recently lost his GSP Sage. They tell me they put up birds but they just couldn't seem to knock them down. We load up and head over to our "go to" field. It's about 45 degrees with a slight breeze and the dogs get birdy as soon as we let them out. Long story short , the hens are holding tight and the roosters are letting us get closer than usual. After some great points and nice flushes we have nothing to show for our troubles. All three of us couldn't shoot straight and our dogs are mad as heck. The Three Stooges would have been proud of us. J & R had to head back to Denver so Duke and I kept hunting. Luck shone down on us as the temp dropped, the wind picked up and light flurries started to fall. Now this is my kind of pheasant weather. I still had to burn a ton of shoe leather and, once again it took me until last light to limit but it was another successful day.