In the Sandhills of Nebraska with my good buddy. Looked like it was going to be two days without pulling the trigger, and my attitude was deteriorating. Began our assault on some hills that looked promising, and a bird flushed 30 yds. from me but angled right toward my friend, so I had no shot. He rolled it, and that limited him out for the day. He headed back to the truck to clean his birds, and I headed off alone to try to give the Ideal its first taste of sharpies. I wasn't into my pursuit more than ten minutes when a sharptail flushed about 15 yards behind me, letting me walk by but not quite far enough...

This one in the bag, I walked on another 30 yards and another one got up, which I folded with the left barrel. Reloading before I moved, another one got up and I rolled him with the right barrel. A limit of three in about three minutes, and the rest of the afternoon contemplating my attitude adjustment.

Pics above


Tolerance: the abolition of absolutes

Consistency is the currency of credibility