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After a decade of staying out of the woods, Adam decided he wanted to take to the Grouse and Woodcock coverts of his Grandfathers acreage. So, on the second Saturday we headed west in hopes the Timberdoodle flight birds would be in. Well, a rare occurrence -- actually a couple -- were in order. We started bumping Grouse instead.
Adam was impressed by the speed these birds got up, got out, and got on with it. I had warned him we'd likely have no luck with them, as Rida hasn't figured out the distance needed to successfully point these, not too gentlemanly, sporting targets. Skeet this isn't.
But we also talked of how the Woodcock would be more accommodating. I explained what Rida would look and act like when serious about a bird. Then it happened. She started a 'creep'. Head and tail level with her back. Slow, slower, slowest.
- I can see the bird Dad
- Just be ready, I want to try and get a picture
The bird moved, and so did Rida.
- I think I hit it, I saw feathers.
- If you did Rida will find it.
- Go get that bird Rida....Get out there....Find the bird.
And in no time she dropped it at my feet.
So, instead of 9-9-9! it was 1-1-1. One point...One shot...One bird. And that's far better than the numbers Adam's Dad puts up.
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