Pheasant hunt

It felt like a hunt as Larsen tracked a rooster pheasant.  It was a plant, to be sure, but that tough bird got up and started running and didn't look back.  I quartered Larsen, but pretty soon decided to just pocket my whistle.  What was the point?  That's when the hunt began.  The little dog scented the bird and started after the bird and never let up.  We didn't need whistles or commands to get his attention or keep him in range.  The rooster and Larsen's response took care of that.  This was a field-smart dog and a wily pheasant.  There were no straight lines on this hunt.  Larsen pivoted on his nose, wheeled about, and moved across and deep into the  field.  Bill T. and Al were flanking with the guns, and we lost ourselves in this hunt.

Along the way, Larsen found a downed chukar and started to bring it in, and then got a full whiff of pheasant.  He started toward that scent, chukar in mouth.  I called him in, and Marilyn B, following closely behind, told me to take the bird and immediately release Larsen to the hunt.  On we went.

Larsen corralled the bird in some tall stuff just before the bluffs of the Tallapoosa.  The bird went up hard and Bill brought it down.  Deep in the blind, Larsen couldn't mark the bird.  He got his reward for his hard work as Marilyn gave him a toss into that blind.  

There was fun talk on the long walk back.  We had been caught up in the quick strategic moves of bird and dog.  It was a fine effort all around and made the day worth it.

More on Larsen's day later.