Two weeks ago I loaded up my little camper trailer and all four of us headed out for a 350-mile trip to a friend's farm where we got to do some bird hunting.
Birds were scarce, but it was good to see my friends again and have some quality time with them. The dogs, all three, enjoyed the trip, too. Em and Jack were out in the fields every day and Mags stayed back in the trailer, which she loves. She made comfy nests in the big bed and there were no complaints from her.
We had the chance to hunt a lovely private preserve that had some of the best habitat I have seen in a long time. Nevertheless, there were few birds. The day we hunted there we had six hunters and a like number of dogs. Jack and Emma performed well, but we didn't get into more than three rises on the whole day.
My hosts were apologetic but I assured them it had been a great day and I wasn't disappointed at all. The dogs had many great days, as did I. I know the dogs would have liked more rises and more birds in the bag, but I don't hunt to kill things. I hunt to be with the dogs, and revel in watching their joy as they work. It was also good to hunt with friends and enjoy some great days afield.
We were gone almost a week. Excellent trip, but we were all glad to be home. Mags dashed inside, jumped up on the couch, and did her patented head-stands in joy to be back in her house.