Urban Outcast Music Discovery, Song #5, Song of Mercy by Sarah Jarosz
Its tough to convey the sense of wonder that South Dakota inspires in pheasant hunters who grew up where the legends of roosters were more plentiful than the birds themselves. So I am just going to acknowledge that my command of metaphors is woefully inadequate and you can take it on faith that driving 1,400 miles each way to bring home a cooler of fancy little chickens isn't crazy. It also happens to be a great time to grow out the "beard" for the grey hair census, abandon the eating of fruits or vegetables, and generally backslide into my more primitive self.
This year we had four hunters (Father Time and the Bros), one blocker/photographer (Kat), plus a pack of four dogs. The hunting was good as expected and we even had a few days where it wasn't frigid. Kat timed it perfectly and flew out for a conference right as the wind and snow popped up on the radar. As always the puppies were the stars of the trip and the joy of watching them work is what keeps me in the field. The three hunting dogs were:
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| Molly - A 12.5 year old German Shorthaired Pointer with the attitude to prove it. Still the best natural hunter but utilized her advanced age to pretend like she couldn't hear commands. |
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| Oak - A 4 year old Labrador with very little retriever in him when his blood lust gets going. Still a solid, enthusiastic hunter and the workhorse of the trip. |
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| Ginger - A 7 month old Brittany Spaniel with enormous potential if she ever grows past dwarf status. At 22 pounds, the pheasants present a mortal enemy. She utilized her young age to pretend like she didn't know any commands. |
Dog #4 is my brother's Brittany Trigger who, in theory, is a pointer but is now referred to as a retriever. On the first field of the first day we spent more time retrieving her than she spent hunting. Fortunately, we found her eventually, completely coated and matted in burrs, and she was put on crate guarding duty for the week. Below are a few more pics of the puppies in action:
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| Swamp dog retrieving a swamp pheasant |
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| Tough to appreciate a sunset when your colorblind, best to keep sniffing |
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| The only motion shot of Ginger that wasn't a blur |
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| Spoiled, sleepy puppies |
Finally, just wanted to say goodbye to Peanut, the only dog I ever considered stealing from my dad. A German Shorthair/Griffon mix, she was a veteran of many South Dakota trips but recently lost a battle with Lyme disease. She is survived by her cranky mother Molly.
