Sitka Gear Turkey Tool Belt

Let's bag up our dogs.

gouch

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SW Oregon
From the time I was first old enough to shoot a shotgun until I was in my thirties I would hunt pheasant on a state wildlife area where they would stalk pheasant. When I was a kid I would hunt with my dad and his dog and later I hunted with my own dog, sometimes with my dad and sometimes with a friend. Every day that I hunted there I would see an old Chevy Suburban driving up and down the road. In that Suburban was a skinny little guy with his extra large black lab. He didn’t work and I was told he was there every single day of the season. The road was higher than most of the fields making it a great platform to scan the whole area. That’s what Suburban man did, survey the fields waiting for someone to miss a bird and have it fly towards the road. He would mark it and take his dog out and go look for that bird. He killed a lot of birds that way. He also liked to talk and would corral everyone he could to bend their ear. His favorite subject was his dog and how he was so much better than everyone else’s dog. If you tried to say something about your dog he would cut you off to tell you a related story about how his dog was so much better. Needless to say people tried to avoid him but he would catch you as you loaded or unloaded. Now that I have spoken ill off Suburban man because of his dog bragging, I am going to brag about my dog.



I had Jake a GSP that I rescued from the pound. He was a hunting machine and took his hunting very seriously. If I were to miss a shot, which happened more often than I would like to admit, he would turn and give me a look. I swear I could read his mind. “I work my tail off finding these birds then retrieving them to you so you can brag. You have only one job and it is the easiest job out here. Just shoot the damn bird! You can’t even do that right.” Well one fine October morning I was walking a field with My friend Bill on my right as Jake was working the tall grass to my left. A little far out maybe but not too bad. Suddenly Jake froze on point but before we could get close the bird flushed. I took one shot and hit the bird low. I saw his legs drop so I knew they were broken and he wouldn’t be able to run. We marked him as he landed next to a pond not too far from the road. As we walked over to the spot we saw that old Suburban slowing to a stop right above the pond. We picked up the pace, knowing that he was planning on taking that bird, but he got there first. I made Jake heal, because he could get a bit grumpy with other dogs, as that big old lab was going nuts trying to find that bird. I told Suburban man I had hit that bird and it couldn’t run. He started right in telling us how his dog had never lost a bird in his life and would have it shortly. As he started rattling on about how good his dog is I realized Zeke was being unusually well behaved, staying right by my side as the lab was going berserk right in front of him. So I looked down to praise him and pat him on the head. What I saw was that he was stretched out an inch off the ground. Frozen rock solid with nothing moving except his little tail quivering like an aspen in the breeze and his eyes looking forward then up at me then forward then up at me then forward again. The poor guy must have been like that every since we got there and had to be cramping up. There not three feet away was that poor bird hunkered down knowing the end was near. I broke out laughing as I picked up the bird and Jake Jumped up and started plucking a few feathers out of its body. Bill broke into laughter as he realized what was happening. Suburban man just shut up, angrily grabbed his dog and headed back up to his rig. Never said another word. I’ll have to say I was proud of Jake and had a warm fuzzy feeling having just one upped the one upper.
 
I like the end of that story. Nothing worse than having a real dog guy who keeps his dog in the truck all day. Dogs are supposed to be burred up and bloody by the end of a good day.
 
I've never really been bothered by bragging of any sort, just when a holes are doing it, but most of what a holes do bothers me anyway. Of course, there is a direct correlation between bragging about my dog and his subsequent failure to obey or perform in some important way!
 
That was a good read! I think the suburban man is related to a guy I work with. All day everyday everything is a one up to the point if he and I work on the same job I work through break to avoid talking to him. Funny thing is the one uppers are always completely full of shit and haven't a clue. It's the quiet guy who doesnt say much that usually knows or can do the most. Good on you for shutting him up, that would have been awesome to see!
 

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