The Latter Days...Now on to the Crazies!

The season ends in both Colorado and Kansas tomorrow...it's like losing a best friend! Here are a few more photos from my forays to bird country. It was a good year! I'll be dreaming for September 2010...

Kansas Coveys on the Course

Here are some photos from a recent Kansas trip. Golf courses make for great bird habitat! The dogs had a great time, and we found some pretty decent coveys this late in the season. This time of year, we spend more time counting birds then shooting at them. The 2009-2010 is winding down out here...I'm hoping to make at least one more trip this season here in Colorado.

There's nothing better on this earth then following a pointing dog looking for birds!

Canine ACL Disease Strideaway.com Article

Elhew pointer on a big Kansas Covey

Strideaway.com

Just One Time For Me

Today I awoke at O'dark-30 and headed to a new spot in search of birds...birds being Colorado scaled quail. Stars dangled above in a cloudless sky as the girls (slumbering comfortably in the car next to me) and I sped southeast from home. Today was a day afield in the uplands that dreams are made of...dreams to get me through the crazies and on into the bird-dog-days of September.

We witnessed the whirr of wings four times today...organized chaos. The dogs pointed all four coveys and followed up with many of the singles...enough excitement to keep me pounding boot leather all day.

As I write this post tonight, the girls are sleeping on the floor next to me...I'm quite certain that they are dreaming of intoxicating Colorado scaled quail!

Until next time...see ya on the prairies!





The girls have nailed a large covey loafing in the sun! Double click on the photo to see their intesity

The girls have a nice covey pinned between them

Uncle Charlie Tales: Yield Not? I Can't

This is a short story from Jim Shaver's blog (CLICK HERE)...Jim's stories are great! If you want a good laugh and fun read, check out his blog!


The old preacher thumped out his favorite “yield not to temptation” sermon and warned against the evils of wild women, the wily devil and white lightning, things that every twelve year old boy needs to hear, right? Uncle Charlie sat beside me, glazed over eyes and a half smile on his lips, and I guess I thought he was caught up in the rhythm of the preaching and halfway to heaven. Little did I know he was pursuing his own feathered temptation through the brushy fencerows of his mind.

I’m grown now. I outran all the dames except the one that caught me. I whipped the strong drink after college and the army. I even pound out some of my own “yield not” sermons when my Atlanta congregation needs it. But mention Uncle Charlie’s little southern gentleman, Mr. Bob White, and I quickly lose all vestments of piety and begin to babble and mimic pointing dogs while fighting an uncontrollable urge to wallow in the nearest weed field.

Now I suppose you’re wondering how a person of my character and reputation can resort to such Pavlovian behavior at the mere drop of a word. It’s really a matter of inheritance. A lot of men have inherited millions of dollars and some even whole corporations but none can compare with the inherited desire to hunt birds. I suppose if you were really lucky you’d get both but somebody forgot to tell Uncle Charlie that dogs and dollars could mix. It was either or at his house and we got the overflow of bird dog puppies.

So there, you know my weakness, my Achilles heel. I confess it. I’m lustful, lazy and a liar because I inherited my Uncle’s genes. I lust after fine 20 gauge doubles. I covet my neighbor’s setter. I simply cannot focus on work between November and February. I make up awful excuses about all the shots I miss. I even cover for my dogs’ mistakes.

I have yielded to temptation. I must pursue Mr. Bob whatever the cost.

“Hello? Yes operator, I’ll accept the charges.”

“Yeah Uncle Charlie, I recognized your voice. No, I didn’t forget it was opening day. I’ll be there early Saturday morning. Have the coffee pot on.”

See what I mean?



Uncle Charlie Tales: Yield Not? I Can't

Pointin' Dogs & Frozen Prairie

Howling-windswept-minus-10-degrees-Kansas-prairie is where I just returned from. You know even if it's miserable and bird-less and you have bird dogs, you're gonna go! I adore Kansas and the prairie life. A few of my very favorite things are meeting the locals in town and sampling the gourmet dinning...breakfast is my favorite! January birds are combat veterans and know how to escape & evade...each bird in the ol' Filson poke is earned with sweat, dog-blood, and tears...from the dust in the eyes!

Sterling was gracious enough to allow Mark & Paul Kastler and myself to stay at his Kansas home for 4 days. We found a few birds...along with the license plates from every state in the lower 48! The highlights of the trip were the great company, table fare, dogs on point, Mark's new pup's first point, and the pretzels we had while watching the BCS title game in the local pub! Below are some photographs of our trip. Thank heavens my camera didn't freeze up! My fingers are still thawing out!

See ya on the Kansas prairie!

Shirt Sleeves & Setters

Happy holidays to all...I hope 2010 is all you can hope and imagine for! I've enjoyed all the friendships I've made through Birddogdoc's Chronicles! Enjoy the gunning season & I hope you all get out in the uplands with your bird dogs in tote! Be safe and always put your four legged partners first!

New Years Eve was spent counting coveys with quail dogs in cholla choked country with a good client and friend, Tom Joswick. Doc, Tom's Rick Smith Brittany, is a very bid-able bird dog...and a pleasure to walk behind. Couldn't have asked for better birddoggin' weather and company. The dogs found a few scaled quail in their homes although the shooting was less than desirable! The birds were a bonus for an already perfect day with thick brisket sandwiches and dark chocolate.

Next up...the Kansas prairies with pointing dogs! Oh yah...least forget the little devil dog...Ellie the FB English cocker.