No photos. Use your imagination. Picture Curly, Larry and Moe. Moe stayed in the truck with Murphy.
We had great expectations today having left a pile of birds (woodcock) behind the last time we went to this spot. Expectations developed into a real cluster fest. It started out with a wild flush out of a thicket. We figured it would land behind the thicket and we walked around with the dogs in front of us, my Abby and Willa. While watching the dogs work, it exploded from the ground five feet from me. I got off two quick misses. We worked the back edge of the thicket and Abby went on point on another bird. I couldn’t get in fast enough and the bird got up on its own. Sayonara. Next up was a huge rivercane patch. In spots, the cane is 12-15 feet tall and as big around as a 12 gauge shell. Cane is bad enough, but it was laced with cat claw briars and stump holes that could swallow a VW. We are lucky to see the dogs 5 yards away. Dogs out in front. “I heard one get up, Floyd.” It landed five feet from us with a “thunk’. It was as if it landed on a silver platter. As quickly as it arrived, it left up and away behind a tree just and I shot the tree. Gone. The bird, not the tree. Later, my Garmin signaled Willa on point, 50 yards out. We struggled through the cane and Floyd saw her 4 yards away, locked down. Floyd got the shot, and it got away fast without a ruffled feather. Minutes later, Abby’s bell stopped. Both of us got there quickly. I could see the bird five feet from her nose. Floyd was positioned behind her perfectly as he could see it as well. I went in. The bird got up fast and just as fast dove down 25 feet away. I got off a shot just as it dove. Swing and a miss. The dogs got over in the area where we thought it landed, but it either flown farther than we thought or had run and it took off without us seeing it as we heard it twitter away. We eventually got on the far side of the monster cane patch. Abby’s bell stopped and I got a signal that she was on point, 50 yards into the cane. I got to within 15 feet from Abby and Willa charged in with me yelling “whoa, whoa!” and I then tripped and promptly face planted on the soft loam and the bird got up and away. I wasn’t too happy with Willa. According to Floyd, the worst part of it was he didn’t get to see me face plant. We should have never let Murphy in the truck.