After about 7 hours we crossed the state-line and decided we would take a break from the drive and let the dogs work the high country for some forest grouse. We put all three dogs down and started climbing up. As always Woz seemed pleased to be out but largely unfocused. As we crested the ridge, he perked up. His pace picked up and it was clear he was on scent. As the pup and I got closer the puppy caught ground scent. We were hunting this area completely cold, I figured it was much more likely they had picked up a muley and expected to see the deer bouncing down the ridge as I climbed to the top. Woz continued to work scent as the puppy closed the gap, nose to the ground. Suddenly, woz locked up, the pup flashed a backing point...and proceeded to rip the bird right out from under Woz's point. The sun was just falling behind the steep ridgeline to the west as Woz and I watched the puppy chasing the big ruffed grouse. Woz looked at me as if to say, "does he have to come"? Woz and I turned and started walking back to the truck, I'll never know if it was the attempted theft of his hard earned point, or if that big old muppet of a dog heard me threaten to sell him, but from that point on he only got better. He stretched out ahead of me working cover, always to the downwind; stretching out to cover the edges, he slammed on a point under a large pine, indicating a thicket of rose hips, scrub oak and without question a bird.
Having learned from our previous mistake I called and leashed the pup. Pup secured, I proceed to work downhill of Woz, The closer I got, the more I could tell he was all business. I stopped at the edge of the thicket and a ruffed grouse exploded out. I knocked it down and sent him for the retrieve while I did my best to restrain the puppy, who absolutely sure that bird belonged to him.
As we put the mountains behind us and pointed the truck north, I thought "Well, at least he is doing something".
Next day we got a late start, I put the pup down first and he must of pointed 20 or 30 grasshoppers. More than one becoming an early morning snack. My partner knocked down our first bird over a point from his little GSP. From my point of view he crushed the bird and I was sure it was down. Once again my pup was on a dead sprint, clearly he understood that he and only he should have that bird, if only he knew which direction to run. The 5 month old german terror flashed in the grass and then disappeared down the hill. We started looking through the grass where I had last seen the bird, figuring the pup would figure it out and quickly return. As I hunted through the grass, Vader crested the hill, proudly displaying the sharpie he had run down. He took his victory laps, head held high and then brought the bird to hand.
Just as we were getting back to the truck, Vader locked up in a thick patch of cover at the bottom of the draw. I moved in quickly knowing it was a matter of seconds before he pounced. As I got even with the pup he raised up on his hind legs and hopped into the thick brush, just as quickly and deliberately a short-tailed rooster exited the other side. I was out of position but my buddy managed to clip the bird. Once again my little DD was gone, reappearing with a very alive and confused young pheasant. To look at him you'd have thought Vader had won the super-bowl. I let him carry the bird back to the truck where he grudgingly gave it up.
Happy with the my younger dog, it was time to put down Woz. We hit up a farm we had hunted the previous year. A big stubble field bordering a draw with heavy cover all the way up to the rivers edge. Woz, worried that he would be left on the bench again, did his best imitation of chewbacca, bellowing, grunting and begging to be let out of his kennel. I put him down and he was off. One of my big concerns about this dog had been his range, he has always liked to be close, 50 yards or so most of the time. Today he was on a mission. He sprinted to the edge of the wheat field. Quartered his way through the cover and down to the rivers edge, by the time we crossed the field he had already bumped 2 hens and rooster which we glimpsed as the sailed out of the county. He had stopped for the flush and now looked at me ashamed. I sent him on and he almost immediately slammed on point. He held while I worked my way over, I walked past him kicked the likely cover...no bird. I looked back at the dog, and he was still convinced. I walked further...no bird. As i slowly convinced myself that it was a NP, my partner circled round in to see what was going on. He got to about 40 yards directly in front of the dog, the grass exploded at his feet. The rooster trapped between them headed straight at me. I know some of you favor your doubles, but I was glad to have extra shells in my 870 because, embarrassingly, it took three for me to finally connect. It ended up being the biggest rooster of the trip with nice spurs and a long tail. He was also missing several toes...
It was amazing to see the switch flip on what had been a pretty mediocre dog. He stretched his range making 200-300 yard casts. When we turned into the wind he bumped a couple of birds and then seemed to adjust his technique. He would make long casts with the wind and then quarter back to us trapping the birds between us. The combination of the dog figuring out the birds and this particular farm having a ton of birds made the drive worth it.
As the week progressed Woz seemed to get better everyday. On one bird I watched from 200 yards away as he relocated on a bird at least 4 times before he had it pinned. He worked the huns and pheasants better than I had ever hoped. I don't mean to say he worked every bird perfectly. He didn't. He bumped almost every covey of sharpies we found and I know in his excitement he missed some of the closer birds. There were porkies (3 of them) and a skunk, bumped birds and sore feet, but every time he was on the ground he put a smile on my face.
Our last morning, we packed up the truck and reluctantly pointed the truck south. I wanted to stop at some federal land that had been good to me the year before. We put all three dogs down at the edge of a large lake. The cover was pretty light and looked like sharpies. Woz took off making, the now familiar, longer casts and working likely cover. We walked for a mile or so without any action when I saw him lock up head cranked to his right. Vader saw him to and covered the distance between us faster than I could. I was sure that Vader would rip them out before I could get there, but kept walking anyway. As I approached Woz remained frozen in place with intense confidence. 20 yards to the left Vader is locked up too. Unsure how long it would last, I slipped to the right and walked in. Two roosters flushed, and I knocked them both down clean. As the dogs broke to retrieve, a third rooster flushed. Being the uncouth pump-gun fan that I am, I knocked him down too.
Each dog with a bird in their mouth and me picking up the third seemed a perfect way to end the trip.
On the drive home my hunting partner says "so if you're going to sell that dog, I'll take him"
I guess I'll keep him.
you got 2 good dogs there.