Random SD

Made it back this year, minor obstacles notwithstanding.  Some bits and pieces:

Hot spot in Watertown

Nice to know someone else is excited about this bird hunting thing, even if for purely capitalist reasons.

The weather wasn't exactly divine.  The fog never lifted on Saturday, which I didn't figure would be a big deal until I got drawn to walk through chest-high switchgrass.  Cordura-faced denim brush pants aren't so waterproof after about a half-mile.  Always be mindful, however, of how good your situation is...

Might not seem like much to you northerners but us crackers aren't used to this.  Dress properly and keep moving and it's manageable.  Multiple gear reviews to follow.

Reports had the bird population up 18% over last year.  I don't know how a hunter would notice an 18% difference, but somebody's tax dollar paid for the statistic so it must be right, or at least notable.  To someone.  What we found was inconsistency.  Two days we hunted from 10am til almost sunset and failed to get a limit.  The foggy day we were done by 2pm. Some spots were good for exactly zero birds.  Others looked like the boom years.

On the way home TSA found the pocketknife that I couldn't find before I left.  It's comforting knowing it made it all the way to Sioux Falls without them finding it.  The plane with the pickups parked next to it is the one that was supposed to get me from Minneapolis to Charlotte.  After 45 mins of delay for "a minor maintenance issue" we got off the ground. Fifteen minutes later we were turning around and headed back to Minneapolis for "an indicator saying there may be something wrong with the landing system".  The pilot was quick to note that the landing gear was fine, just a possibility that a spoiler or thrust reverser or something else used to keep the plane from shooting off the end of the runway might not be working correctly.  He also told us not to be alarmed by the fire trucks, "All part of the safety protocol."  An hour later we were back on another horse that eventually got us home.  When life gives you lemons you at least have time to finish a pretty good book (review coming on 11/19).

All in all it was a fine trip.  Something about big open spaces and beautiful birds pulls me in and paints me with a smile.  There is at least one party, though, who wouldn't be disappointed to see me stay home next time...

No pal, not yet

Only one more month.  Yeah, only.

So, any regrets?

It's been a little over two years since I brought Wyatt home.  As we eased through the public dove field this afternoon on a pre-season run I wondered, truly only for a second, whether he was glad he came to live with us.  Compared to his old digs this is something on the order of moving into Biltmore Estate, what with an honest-to-goodness roof over his head and something softer than dirt to sleep on.  Creature comforts aside he's a shamelessly affectionate dog and there's no shortage of that in our home either.

Any new dog comes with a bounty of hopes and a measure of trepidation.  My most prominent fear stemmed from having two young children, visions of a dog who can't tolerate the occasional innocent aggression and eventually lashes out in protest.  I don't have kennels; my dogs live with the rest of us and such a curmudgeon won't have a place around our house.  It would truly suck to own the finest field companion I may see in a lifetime and have him not get along with the kids.

There was also the concern about him being a total washout in the field.  A dog who won't handle, won't hold point or worse still, points only butterflies and grasshoppers, chases everything that runs until he hits the county line and catches sight of something else.  He might be more fun that a turbocharged slinky back at the ranch but I already have one dog with "Non-hunter" on his ID. 

From my seat it's worked out just fine.  He's no field trial champion and we haven't bagged a limit yet but after a year without a bird dog the tally didn't really matter.  Being in the field behind a dog, any dog, is good medicine.  Being able to do it on your own schedule, not waiting for an invitation, is even better.

For whatever reason dogs seem to find their way into our lives.  And I mean the right dogs.  Not necessarily field trial champions or Nat Geo special candidates.  With the exception of the rare few that are plain disasters - the ones that run off, bite the in-laws, or destroy the house, and even these tend to teach us something along the way - certain dogs have a curious karma-like way of ending up with us.  They have a way of fitting into the family, quirks and all.  They have a way of filling a need or two, sometimes more.