I was thinking of this sport, hobby, activity, pastime, recreation. But it's really not any of those things, not to me anyways. I heard talk of roosters and hunting since I was a little kid. My dad sold all his guns before I was born. I grew up in the suburbs and never hunted. I was ate up with fishing from the word go. By total happenstance I moved across the street from a trap club, asked a buddy to borrow his gun, and shot clays all summer. One thing led to another and I invited myself along on a ND duck hunt that fall, but was told I had to get my own gun! I promptly went to the local gunstore and bought my first shotgun. Waterfowling is such a blast, it was a great trip. A couple years later I bought a MN pheasant license and went hunting at a public spot with no dog. It was fun and I even flushed a few birds. I asked my buddy to go with me a few days later. He had a brittany dog, and I'll never forget how she worked, she wanted those birds more than I ever could. When she passed away last year my buddy made her a beautiful casket and buried her up at the family property along with grouse and pheasant feathers. What more can you do for a dog that lives their entire life only to flush and retrieve game birds and please their hunting partners? I fell to luck, happenstance, and providence to become Skye's hunting partner. She taught me to hunt, how to find pheasants, and where the roosters live. She put up with a lot of bad decisions and shitty shooting and never once flagged in enthusiasm. This is an awesome site, tons of great info and members. I really appreciate all the photos and stories everyone shares of their dogs and hunting buddies. Some things in life get old and stale, I lose my curiosity and enthusiasm. One thing I never get tired of is good stories and discussion on pheasant hunting. If my time was eternal I wish I could hunt with each and every one of you, learn all about your dogs, and see them all out in the field doing what they love most, hunting wild roosters. As life goes on I can say with certainty that seeing a dog work in the field never gets old. Skye just turned 8 at the end of the season. I promised I wouldn't call her a granny dog until next season. I don't know what I'm gonna do when she checks out, other than be a complete mess. Going back to my first sentence, I mean to say that pheasant hunting is part of who I am and at this point can't ever be separated from that. I hope to be chasing these wiley old ringnecks around till I breath my last. I can't think of anything I'd rather be doing. Please give your dog a pet for me, and a scratch behind the ear.
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