On Sunday we found them.
Emma tore up the cover looking for birds.
You comin' Dad?
Not your typical plodding Ryman.
The disappointing part of the weekend was she bumped 5 or 6 birds that I saw
and only held her couple points for a few seconds and then rushed in and flushed the bird. As she approaches her fourth birthday it's becoming painfully clear that she may never make it as a birddog. I've given her as many opportunities as I could in the last four years but the "light" just hasn't come on. I'll hunt her hard this fall but will begin to plan on a new pup perhaps for the spring of 2012. Not to worry, Emma will have a good home for the rest of her life cause she's part of the family, but as I watch my number of hunting seasons start to lessen I yearn for a solid pointing dog to walk up to and experience the thrill of the flush before my hunting days are over.
As always I look for anything unusual to take a pic of. Here's a nice fungi of a color I've never seen before.