Remembrances

Training at Circle W had that early fall feel to it. The air was cooler than it had been in forever. The sky low and gray, with no hint of summer. There were traces of color on a few trees in the hills that rimmed the farm. The fields had their fall cuts.

Bill T. and his gun were at about three o'clock to my right. I had my gun, too, and set Larsen to work.

Larsen was in front of me about 20 yards, and a bit to my right shoulder. Larsen's tail, when you can see it, provides a good signal of what is happening deep in the broom straw, but when he finds a a tough bird, his whole body is aquiver. Larsen went into the grass. The chukar was strong and went up, flapping loud and hard. The bird curved into a chandelle, climbing high over Bill, and arching back into a hard looping dive to my left. The bird leveled off, still flying hard. I turned to my left and shot it going away at twenty five yards or so. The bird went straight down. Larsen closed fast. He picked up the bird, and brought it straight back on a full run. He gave it to me and I him a squeeze.

Bill said that shooting a bird over your own dog and having him retrieve it to hand was what the sport was all about. I told him that even at that moment, I was trying to preserve the memory of that happy dog returning at top speed to show me what our little team had done.