Have the day off tomorrow . . . thinking of grabbing an hour or two of solo hunt time. If I do, I'll post how I do. Looks to be fairly warm.
Well, I'm happy I made the trek out this afternoon.
Got my workout in, played with the kids, and decided to hit a field or two around noon today. My two oldest asked I "bring back two birds". I shared I'd be happy with one, and they countered with "you need to set higher goals, Dad". I smiled, and jumped in the truck.
First field . . . only about 20 acres, and one that hasn't been worth a darn the past two years. Just Gunner and me, so I give him the okay to lead with plans to follow.
About 5 minutes in, Gunner goes on point, and I see a doe jump up. Figuring he was smelling her, I give him the verbal release, but he's not having it. I step in, and up comes a hen. Good to see. 10 seconds later, another point. My head is in the game now, I approach, and a rooster flushes with the wind, over the top of both me and Gunner. I swing, shoot, and down goes the bird. A back shot. Gunner is on the spot far faster than me, but then takes a hard right about 20 yards away. As I run there, another hens flushes at my feet. Back Gunner comes with the bird in his mouth, still alive. A nice find; running rooster in 7 foot tall blue stem. One in the bag, and I'm happy with that.
Gunner continues west, into the wind, and locks up again . . . this time in only about a foot of grass. I step in, and up comes another hen. Her flush pulls another one into the air. 10 yards away, another point, and another hen.
We move on, and I can see that Gunner remains interested. This was his day; the best he's been all year. It was as if he was on a rope to all of these birds. Hard charging, quartering as if he had the 50 foot lead on, then slamming on the breaks and locking up solid. So solid you can see pronounced muscle definition, foam at the mouth, raised front leg and tail pointing to the heavens. Man I love that. Anyhow, back to the story . . .
. . . we're still heading west, about 1 minute since the last hen point and we're nearing the far west edge. Beep, beep, beep . . . another point. I step in, but nothing. I turn back and focus on Gunner's eyes. He's telling me to step left. I do, and cackle, cackle, cackle. Another rooster, flushing with the wind to the left. Bang. One shot, and this time it's perfect. Gunner retrieves the dead bird to hand.
I'm more than satisfied now. Superb dog work, beautiful day, and good bird numbers seen for only 20 minutes afield . . . in a field that hadn't held birds the past couple of years. I'd only made one pass through the field, but I had two birds in the bag, and didn't want to take any more out. I unload the gun and take a diagnol back to the truck, Gunner quartering in front.
About 30 yards from the truck, and fitting for how the day has gone so far, Gunner again slams on point. This was in relatively short grass, so I could see his full body. I would have paid $100 to have a camera on hand in that moment. He just looked perfect. Absolutely the epitome of what I desire in my hunting dogs.
Again, I step in, only to reward Gunner (recall I've unloaded gun) and up comes another rooster. He was beautiful. Big, bright colors, and long tail feather. I took in the sight, reflected on the moment, thanked Gunner, and we jumped in the truck.
Headed towards home now, and I'm approaching another of my fields that I hadn't yet taken a bird from. What the heck, Gunner and I decided to make one pass out and back and then call it a day. Park the truck, step out, and off we go heading south.
It wasn't until the far south edge that Gunner got birdy. He creeped some, then locked up. I walk in, nothing. Release Gunner, he tracks only about 10 yards, then another point. Again, nothing. Release, track, and point again. This time a hen flushes. I note they'll be running in this field.
We're heading back to the truck now, and Gunner isn't very hot. He's working, just not getting a point every minute. Had I become spoiled? ;-)
Then, out of the corner of my left eye, I notice something black fly INTO the field in front of me . . . maybe about 60 yards up. Could it actually have been a rooster? I'm determined to find out.
Gunner and I adjust slightly, and head that way. Once we got there, I knew it was a bird the way Gunner was acting. He started to trail . . . problem was we were now walking WITH the wind, so Gunner had to stay close enough to keep scent, yet far enough away so as not to bust the bird. I stay right on top of Gunner.
After about 50 yards of tracking, Gunner locks up solid. The wind is at his back, so I'm a bit skeptical that a bird is holding there. I figured it was just his scent . . . but was wrong. Up comes the rooster, one shot, and he's dead. Gunner retrieves to hand to finish off our limit.
What a day. You can't tell me it was coincidence that that rooster flew INTO the field we were hunting. I think I was rewarded for good stewardship on the field prior. Call me crazy.
It is amazing how few birds my county has.
