nstric
New member
Took my 6 year old daughter, Kate (middle child of three), out this morning for some daddy-daughter time. Knowing her attention would quickly wane, and physically most fields would be a struggle, I decided to head NW towards Bayard. I have access to a big block 20 acre piece up there.
45 minutes in the truck passed rather quickly, filled with random chatter and thoughts I think can only come from my daughter. We talked safety, how we'd follow Gunner in the field, and said a few prayers for good fortune.
Upon arrival, my heart sank a bit as the field was nearly surrounded by standing corn. I thought for sure that it would be out by now, as the farmer was picking on Opening Weekend. Nonetheless, we park, prepare, and step foot into the field.
We enter from the north, with the wind out of the NW. Gunner naturally wants to work into the wind, but I call him towards the south edge of the parcel so that Kate can walk the mowed area with me working parallel just north of her, in the grass.
We're walking west; Gunner is quartering happily with wind across his nose. He works his way north, then south, back north and so on . . . all along inching west as Kate and I are walking. There's just something magical about reaching the point with your hunting dog where you don't have to say a thing in the field. He just knows . . . and you just know . . . what and why the other is doing as he is. Almost like a really good dance partner!
We reach the SW corner of the field about 10 minutes into the hunt. No birds yet, but Gunner is showing signs of interest. There's life in this field!
All three of us now turn north, walking the far west edge. Kate on the edge, and me 10 yards or so into the grass.
Gunner's beeper collar then goes off, only 20-30 yards ahead of me, slightly east. I ask Kate to sit tight and hurry towards the sound. Just as I'm close enough to make out Gunner, I take note of the direction of his eyes, and move in. Up flushes Mr Rooster, I shoulder the gun, slowly squeeze the trigger, and drop the bird. Gunner locates him in the big blue stem, I let out a sigh of relief, smile, and cut through the grass towards Kate to show her our prize. She was more excited than me! The joy.
Kate insisted on carrying the rooster back to the truck. She was a trooper, eventually having to cut through the tall grass, falling many, many times, but always insistant that she had things covered. I smiled as she cradled the bird, as if she was carrying a puppy. The moment was not lost on me; I purposely paused to reflect on my good fortunes. Not just for the day's hunt, but for all that I've been given.
We'd prayed for one rooster, managed exactly that, so our hunt was done. Gunner pointed a few more times as we were working our way to the truck, but I chose to walk along Kate's side as opposed to rush away in attempt to flush whatever had Gunner's nose. Gunner seemed okay with that.
45 minute drive, 15 minute hunt, 45 minute drive home. Worth evey second invested!
Kate and Gunner so happy!
Longest tail feather so far this season.
Nice spurs!
45 minutes in the truck passed rather quickly, filled with random chatter and thoughts I think can only come from my daughter. We talked safety, how we'd follow Gunner in the field, and said a few prayers for good fortune.
Upon arrival, my heart sank a bit as the field was nearly surrounded by standing corn. I thought for sure that it would be out by now, as the farmer was picking on Opening Weekend. Nonetheless, we park, prepare, and step foot into the field.
We enter from the north, with the wind out of the NW. Gunner naturally wants to work into the wind, but I call him towards the south edge of the parcel so that Kate can walk the mowed area with me working parallel just north of her, in the grass.
We're walking west; Gunner is quartering happily with wind across his nose. He works his way north, then south, back north and so on . . . all along inching west as Kate and I are walking. There's just something magical about reaching the point with your hunting dog where you don't have to say a thing in the field. He just knows . . . and you just know . . . what and why the other is doing as he is. Almost like a really good dance partner!
We reach the SW corner of the field about 10 minutes into the hunt. No birds yet, but Gunner is showing signs of interest. There's life in this field!
All three of us now turn north, walking the far west edge. Kate on the edge, and me 10 yards or so into the grass.
Gunner's beeper collar then goes off, only 20-30 yards ahead of me, slightly east. I ask Kate to sit tight and hurry towards the sound. Just as I'm close enough to make out Gunner, I take note of the direction of his eyes, and move in. Up flushes Mr Rooster, I shoulder the gun, slowly squeeze the trigger, and drop the bird. Gunner locates him in the big blue stem, I let out a sigh of relief, smile, and cut through the grass towards Kate to show her our prize. She was more excited than me! The joy.
Kate insisted on carrying the rooster back to the truck. She was a trooper, eventually having to cut through the tall grass, falling many, many times, but always insistant that she had things covered. I smiled as she cradled the bird, as if she was carrying a puppy. The moment was not lost on me; I purposely paused to reflect on my good fortunes. Not just for the day's hunt, but for all that I've been given.
We'd prayed for one rooster, managed exactly that, so our hunt was done. Gunner pointed a few more times as we were working our way to the truck, but I chose to walk along Kate's side as opposed to rush away in attempt to flush whatever had Gunner's nose. Gunner seemed okay with that.
45 minute drive, 15 minute hunt, 45 minute drive home. Worth evey second invested!
Kate and Gunner so happy!
Longest tail feather so far this season.
Nice spurs!
Last edited:
