Now here is something you don't see everyday. The neighbors black cat (whom dutifully crosses my path everyday) stalking a white rooster pheasant. If I were just a tad bit more superstitious I would take this as some sort of ominous sign (good versus evil at the crossroads) but instead I took it as an opportunity for yard work.
It has been nearly nine months since Guff's accident. a few grand, a couple pins, and a lot of physical therapy he is as good as new and more than ready to start hunting again. which he proved as we followed the pheasants scent up into the wood lot behind the house and Guff dog showed me he remembered all his training as he locked up and held point without a WHOA being said.
Alright... He remembered most of his training. After being good enough to stand over an incredibly dumb pheasant while I snapped way too many pics, Guff decided enough was enough and pounced.
The pheasant practiced common sense and fled the scene. The orange splashes on it back reminded me of the setter that came before guff, A beautifully wise orange belton named Aspen. The cackling and slapping of wings through brush while the bird entered the fall sky reminded me of my old springer spaniel named Decoy, who passed last year.
Thank God for october, pheasants, and silly bird dogs.