I may need to charge overtime. Treats and a half, Mike!
I wrote recently that fishing is like work, and I’m here to tell you that hunting is like real work. I have to climb mountains, trek down valleys, wade or swim across rivers and struggle and muscle my way through dense brush and briars. Hunting should be an Olympic sport, har har!
By my conservative estimates, for every mile Mike walks while we hunt together, I sprint five miles. A 10 mile hunt for grouse in the high mountains for Mike becomes a 50-mile marathon for me — plus I have to find birds and double time to retrieve any birds shot. I’m hunting with Mike most of the time so this is a time to take a break when he shoots. I often hear “No Bird!” Goodness, give me the shotgun, Mike! Har har!
Just the other day, Mike’s friend Marlon shot a grouse. I was across the canyon about 100 yards away from him and hunting ahead of Mike. When Marlon’s shotgun sounded off, I sprang into action and dashed down and through the 100 yards of dense brush, crossed an icy creek and climbed up the other side of the canyon to reach the location of that shot. Marlon pointed up the canyon wall above him and said “Dead Bird!” Those words are similar to someone saying you have won the mega lottery and you are a millionaire. I raised my nose high and sprang into action. In short order, I had the bird in my mouth. Now the sprint began.
I dashed past Marlon with his out-stretched arm and went into the brush with his bird firmly in my mouth. I muscled my way back through the 100 yards of dense brush, crossed the creek again and soon delivered Marlon’s bird to Mike. Wait, I know it was not his bird but I wanted him to see what a dead bird looked like, and what type of bird I was hunting for on this day. I must confess, I regularly return all birds downed to Mike. Why, you wonder?
He buys the dog food and treats, then he gets the birds. I know a thing or two about loyalty — and treats. —Cameron
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