We were having a stellar day at Norias. One of my favorite places to hunt quail. Big coveys, and the pointing dogs were finding them throughout the morning. The morning dampness didn't hurt our little spaniels' abilities to find dead birds, and track down cripples thru the thick native grasses either.
After lunch and a nap, we found conditions a little more challenging as we moved back into the pasture for the afternoon hunt. A good little breeze was whipping up, the morning moisture had evaporated, and the little spaniels would have a more difficult time during this session.
I had used 2 of the 4 pointing dogs I had brought with me during the morning session. My cohert and I alternate running the dogs, so he had used two of the 4 dogs he had loaded onto the truck during the morning hunt as well.
I would start the afternoon session with PeeWee. Now, PeeWee is twelve years old...he no longer comes charging out of the box and begins flashily sashaying back and forth thru the field immediately like a younger dog. He putters along for a while... while the kinks get worked out. I would have preferred not to have used PeeWee, in favor of a more exciting dog to watch, but my little Libby (who is 9 yrs old herself", my only pointer not loaded, was not on the truck due to recovering from uterine infection and surgery.
PeeWee began his session with characteristic putterings, and gradually working his way into the pasture on either side of the trail we were following.
Someone on the hunting truck yelled "He stopped!" Sure enough, Ol' Pee had locked into his trademark unstylish, but nevertheless rock steady point, and held it thru the covey rise, like the old pro that he is. After he got a snoot full of bird scent, he kicked it up a couple of gears, and found and held two more coveys for us before going back into the box. I was grinning like a 'possum.
Edited by Pointer (12/12/15 11:51 PM)