Recent

Check Out Our Forum Tab!

Click On The "Forum" Tab Under The Logo For More Content!
If you are using your phone, click on the menu, then select forum. Make sure you refresh the page!

The views of the poster, may not be the views of the website of "Minnesota Outdoorsman" therefore we are not liable for what our members post, they are solely responsible for what they post. They agreed to a user agreement when signing up to MNO.

Author Topic: Just a little dog story  (Read 1232 times)

0 Members and 1 Guest are viewing this topic.

Offline Bobby Bass

  • Master Outdoorsman
  • Posts: 5203
  • Karma: +8/-28
It might not have been the best day but I got a big hint yesterday morning that it was time to go out and do some bird hunting. You see I have partner that won't take no for an answer. So when Bud brought over my hunting boot in his mouth I took it as a big hint he wanted to go out. I pretend to ignore him but he just sat looking at me with my leather boot in his mouth and then he just dropped it at my feet. I figured I had out waited him till he returned a moment later with the other boot. Dropping that one next to the first he sat and looked at me with them big lab eyes. I tried to ignore him and he got up and slowly walked away. Looking over his shoulder to see if I was watching him he went to the gun cabinet and making a big deal of turning around and sitting down next to the door. We looked at each other from across the room, I teased him a little by shifting in my seat, His head came up and his tail bounced off the side of the gun cabinet then went still again as he saw I was not moving.

He had me, I could not tease him any more and as soon as I said " Bud, you want to chase birds?" He was up and bounding across the floor, tail wagging and talking to me in that low lab bark growl bark whine. He was acting up so bad you think he was Lassie trying to tell me that Timmy was in trouble, again. Boots went on and were laced up, pants legs pulled down over the top. I grabbed a coat and the orange vest was next. A handful of shells went into the right pocket and a few dog bones into the left. A bottle of water from the fridge found it's way into the big game pocket and with a hat on my head we were out the door.

Takes but a moment to walk across the wet grass to the edge of the woods and the trail that goes out from behind the cabin. Bud was already at the edge as he had ran across the yard. As soon as we both stepped into the woods it started. With each passing step deeper the two of us took steps back into time, as least that is the way it feels. The old dog who is now nine acts like a puppy when he is in the woods, but now he has years of experience. I watched as he walks in front of me, nose to the ground head going from side to side. He stops at branches laying across the well worn trail. It looks like he is checking to see of a grouse has been on the branch but I think he is making sure that the old man following him sees it and won't trip on it. The old man being me feels younger to, it takes a while but the old hunting boots are starting to feel good on the feet. I stop and loosed the laces a tad and Bud sits and waits for me. I wave him on when I am done and we continue down the trail.

We walk at a relaxed pace, stopping often and looking, From time to time Bud will go off the trail and I will stop and watch, gun at ready. He will come back to the trail and give me a shake of us his head and lets me know that there is nothing there, now. The trees are heavy with leaves and still pretty green. Some yellow is showing and every now and then a maple with red turning leaves sticks out. We walk the path and like always we are surprised by a grouse that burst up off to our right and is gone before either one of us can do anything. Bud bounces on his front legs and wants to give chase, I look into the thick tangle of brush and tall grass and think another day for that one. I wave him to continue down the trail and he starts off, Looking over his shoulder from time to time he gives me that look that says it all, We could have gone after him boss, he didn't fly that far. I chuckle to myself and calling Bud to my side I give him a rub behind his ear and a pat on his rump and sent him back down the trail. He wags his tail and goes back to work.

We come to a small clearing and take a break, I pour water in my cupped hand from the water bottle and Bud drinks from it. I take a few sips myself and then ask Bud if he wants a bone, He of course has never said no. I give him a bone and wait while he breaks it into pieces and chews it. He sniffs the grass making sure he didn't miss any and is ready to go back to hunting. I take a moment with the water bottle in hand and look around at the cleaning, I do it every time. I remember walking into the clearing years ago and Bud kicking up a covey of birds that were sunning themselves. The rest of that year every time we came to the clearing we would sneak up, always waiting for that covey to be there again, but they never were.

We turn to go back down the trail to the cabin when I see a grouse sitting in a tree watching us, well more likely watching Bud. I hang back as Bud walks under the tree and the bird with neck stretched out tries to look down and around the trunk. Bud stops and looks back at me, I point upward, of course Bud being a dog has not a clue that I am pointing out a bird to him just wags his tail and looks back at me. This of course is a new hand signal to him and he is pretending he knows what I am saying. The bird is about to fall out of the tree watching Bud and I am still pointing at the bird. I walk toward the bird and Bud and the bird are now both looking at me. Bud still does not see the bird and the bird I see is refusing to fly. So there the three of us are now standing or in the birds case sitting and watching each other.

Well after a minute or so of this I reach down and grab a stick and throw it at the bird, It sails past the bird who is now looking at me with his head cocked to one side, Bud is trying to figure why I want to play fetch when we are hunting. I pick up a bigger stick and this time I hit the tree trunk, the bird has had enough and with a thunderous roar takes off from the tree to fly over head. A lone feather falls from the sky and lands in front of a barking Bud who now decides to point out to me that there is or was a bird in that tree. I pick up the feather and put it in my pocket, I pat Bud on the rump and we go back down the trail. Later we sit in the den, Bud at my feet and the tail sitting on my desk, for me another successful bird hunt. From Lake Iwanttobethere
Bobby Bass


Bud and now Barney working the trail again in front of me.

It is not how many years you live, it is how you lived your years!