I love those four-legged hunting partners even better than the two-legged at times and here's and old story recycled for the new comers just to prove it.
A couple of years back my friends and I headed out for our fist hunt of the year to the club. There were five of us. We were all hanging out at the tailgate of the truck when the owner of the club drove up. He knows that we are a pretty competitive group of guys, so he states that he has released a white pheasant for us and that it might be some fun to throw in a few bucks and let the hunter who takes the bird get the pot. We thought that was a pretty good idea. Every one of us thought that we would be walking away with money. With the money in the pot, we started on our way. The first bird came flushing from the grass and a shot was fired. The bird fell to the ground as quickly as it rose. A few birds later the white pheasant exploded from the cover. I raised my gun and fired. The bird began to fall, but before the bird hit the ground a second shot was fired. My extremely competitive friend Phil, with a cocky smile on his face, said, “I shot the white pheasant.” What he said was true, but the bird was dead and on his way to the ground before his shot was fired. We discussed our varying opinions of the bird’s rightful game pouch as Phil’s Yellow Lab Rico retrieved the bird. Phil had decided the only real way to resolve our difference of opinion was to let the dog decide whose bird it was. Of course, Phil was thinking that Rico was nothing if not loyal. Rico was always a great retriever, a pretty good flusher, but that day he showed that he was a dog of great integrity when he gently placed that white pheasant at my feet. I have always loved hunting with Rico and Phil is all right too.
