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Christie was a beautiful dog, Eugene.

As I recall a lifetime of dove shoots, duck hunts, bobwhite quail hunting at it's best and days in the woodcock cover, I have so many fine memories of hunts, alone and with friends, and with family. There have been days in Crdoba, Agentina that I took over 1000 doves in 6 hours shooting with my 20 ga. 687 SP II Sporting, mornings in the Bayou Meto that as many as 8 of us all limited out, morning hunts on the L' Anguille River when 4 of us limited so quickly that we had left the blind, trailered the boat, and we're eating a hot breakfast at the Pancake House by 8:30 a.m. There are memories of dove shoots with Grandaddy after school, as a kid, that seem to mark the passing of my childhood into adolescence, and on into manhood. He made the greatest impressions upon me of any man in my life, especially on the water and in the field. I miss him greatly, even after 41 years.

Maybe because the relationship between my Grandad and me was so special, as I have tried to think of my most memorable day afield I keep recalling days with my oldest Grandson, Jackson. He lives pretty near me, so I have been blessed to be able to include him on many shoots and hunts, since he was very young. His very first time with me on a dove field was most uneventful, until the very last moment. Jackson was 5 years old, as I recall, and it was a blustery, cloudy, cold January day. The wind was just knifelike, cutting through your clothing. I knew there weren't many doves feeding in this particular peanut field, but I hoped to take a few for Jackson to see, and also for my yellow Lab pup, Fowler, to experience. I set a little blind up, under the pivot, and the two of us sat down inside, with Fowler at heel on my left, just outside the blind. We sat, and sat, and sat ..... seeing nothing. The wind was playing havoc with Jackson, but he braved it well, not wanting to complain. Gunner began to grow impatient, too, as puppies will. I wanted so badly for Jackson's, and Fowler's first time out to amount to something, but it was looking like it was going to be a bust. I looked over at Jackson, and his lips were blue and trembling from the cold. It was getting pretty late in the afternoon, and I was beginning to feel guilty about keeping Jackson out in such cold. I bowed my head, closed my eyes, and prayed ........ "Lord, I know You have a lot more important things to tend to, and I know this is an infinitely small thing in Your great plan, but if You would look down and have mercy on this ragged bunch huddled here, please send us just one bird so these two pups can see what this is supposed to be all about. Thank you, in Jesus' name."

As I opened my eyes, right out front was an incoming dove at 12 o'clock, about 8 ft. off the ground and closing. I whispered to Jackson, "Sit still, here he comes". He saw the dove, Fowler saw the dove, and I raised the gun and folded it cleanly. It fell about 15 yards out front, and slightly to Fowler's side of the blind. Perfect! Fowler had marked it down, and I sent him for his first dove. He ran to it, started to pick it up, but stopped and looked at me quizzically, as if to say, "What the heck is this?". I said "Fetch", he picked it up and ran straight to me with it.

Both Jackson and Fowler soon developed into real fine partners on the dove field. Jackson began shooting for himself at age 8, and Fowler was hit by a vehicle one night and I lost him way too soon. But, that one dove taken, and that bitter cold afternoon with two "pups", stands out in my memory as one of the finest afternoons I have ever spent.

All my best, SRH


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Originally Posted By: eugene molloy




Marvelous photo of a very beautiful dog.

Jay

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Your story Marty reminded me of a hunt to Canada a few years back. We were hunting Saskatchewan and a flock of cranes swung by our spread within range of my buddie on the outside edge. He dumped one and same thing.....the dog was out after the bird as it hit the ground. The crane was up on it's feet, and the bird and the dog started doing the dance.

We watched for a minute as the dog dodged the jabs as it watched for an opening. This went on for a moment, with my friend stating "I'd better go over and help get the bird." When he arrived to the bird and dog show, he attempted to grab the birds neck but the bird jabbed at him as well. Finally the dog circled around and with the birds attention on the dog, my friend did a quick grab on the cranes neck and secured the bird.

I thought at the time, I wish I would have taken a video of the whole show. It was funny watching the dog and bird circle one another but even more funny to watch when my friend got involved.


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One of my most memorable is a late season pheasant hunt with my brother, day trip from the Twin Cities to north-central IA in the late '90s, still the good years of CRP there. More than 6" of fluffy snow fell overnight, heavy cover snow-laden, birds still roosting beneath it at mid-morning.

Unforgettable images in my memory. Brilliantly colored roosters flushing into the bright sunlight, glittering clouds of snowflakes breaking open around beating wings. We shot well that morning. Our springers bounded through the fluffy snow, intoxicated by concentrated scent. They brought in retrieves wearing snow-coats, prancing proud through the snow, birds held high.

Gosh ... thrills me again to remember it.

Jay




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Again, proof of what my Grandfather always said: "Wimmen have no damn business out hunting- nor meddlin' in politics, or shootin' pool or playin' stud poker. Nothing can Fubar a day out duck (or other birds as well)huntin' like a large PITA woman- or women, if she has an uglier twin sister. You did the right think in givin' her the old "heave-Ho" RWTF


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Thanks for the annual dove count down Stan.

Lots of good memories, but I mostly think of the simple stuff. When my boy was too little to shoot, he was sitting with me on a so so duck day. I was watching where I knew they would come from, he was watching in the other direction. Pretty calmly he whispers some are coming. He spotted them and by luck I got a clean double. He was the retriever and didn't want to walk out in ankle deep water about twenty feet out. After he got over the hump of that first retrieve, I had to call him back when it looked like he was going to get water over the top of the wrinkled up over sized waders on him later in the day. He was antsy to try, so I finally let him line up on a duck that had landed and was paddling around a good seventy yards away. He was way off, could barely steady the gun, but then he was in the hunt and couldn't wait for the next chance.

I like a lot of the memories of hunting alone. I like the feeling of a ten minute nap on the edge of a marsh after really busting my tail, getting all fired up, but now it's only nine in the morning and the limit is lined up near by. It's usually no fun while it's happening, but I remember the really bad weather hunts and never regretted it when I decided to go out. I like the rare times for me, waterfowl hunting in pea soup thick fog. You can hear birds around, but can only start to make them out when they're inside fifty feet. I'd rather be around a little bit of good dog work than do a lot of shooting.

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Late October,2013 I drove up to a ranch I hunt in Nebraska. A storm was forecast for that evening so I planned on a duck hunt. Ducks were swarming the lake I hunted, almost too windy to launch the duckboat. I shot 4 drake mallards, a drake redhead and a drake can in an hour and a half. Back to the landing, loaded the boat and decided to walk the edge of the lake for grouse. Walked less than a half mile and my Springer flushed a covey of Prairie Chickens and I was pleasantly suprised to double on boomers. On the way back to the truck the dog started working the cattails and flushed two rooster pheasants, a real bonus for that country. I'm one shy of my daily limit for grouse, hit the sandhills and got into a covey of Sharptails and knocked down my third, and final grouse. The hunting was so good I drove to town and got a motel room. The next morning the lake was frozen solid and temps in the low teens. Couldn't find a grouse to save my soul. I've hunted for 60 years and had many, many memorable hunts but that one about tops 'em all!


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Mine was just this last spring. I have not done a lot of turkey hunting and was pleased to get an invite to a friends land in Mendocino County. I brought my Smallwood 10 bore Damascus underlever hammer gun, loaded with brass shells, black powder and #5 shot. I heard turkeys up a steep hillside, set out a couple of decoys in a compromising position, hunkered under a bush about 20 yards away and started calling. In no time at all a young male was next to the decoys, wondering if he had any chance of getting some action with that old tom already wooing the fetching young lass. Pulled the rear trigger and when the great cloud of white smoke cleared, the turkey was stone dead he never even twitched. Damn, that was fun.

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That was a great day, Cobbhead.

Thanks, SRH


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Originally Posted By: Gunflint Charlie
Originally Posted By: eugene molloy




Marvelous photo of a very beautiful dog.

Jay


I wholeheartedly agree there, that is one beautiful dog, smile

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