Yup- great article covering that, and gun safety as well in recent issue of the DU magazine. Also a touch on this topic on gunning etiquette in recent issue of SS magazine- your best friend has a 100 yard long ranging flushing dog, no more in control than Sarah Brady at a NRA convention- but he has the exclusive access to some of the bird laden private farms that no one else can hunt but himself and his guest- But you spend all of a late October day admiring the foliage and counting the $ you have saved by not shooting, and watch rooster after rooster sail on out of sight- what do you do? What can you say?
You thank your friend for the opportunity. You bite your tongue when you want to laugh at, or curse, the dog. It's your friend's dog to own, train and discipline. You keep to yourself your gratitude that you got to take your gun out for a walk on a nice, pleasant fall day and for the fact that you won't have to clean the gun later, nor brush out the burrs in the dog's coat but can instead relax with your favorite adult beverage. You don't want to rub your friend's nose in his dog's behavior - he knows already. You keep in mind that there are any number of people, some who you probably know, who would give just about anything for the ability to walk the fields with or without gun. (I think of a friend's wife who recently suffered a stroke and is now bedridden.) You think of friends who have gone over to the other side and no longer can hunt. Ballistix999 and Geno from this site, to head the list. I have a couple of my friends who I've hunted with and who are gone, who I think about every time I load up, wishing they could be there to experience the hunt.
After all, we call it hunting, not shooting. (No offense to our British friends.) And "success" is not measured in mere birds in the bag.
No intention to be a downer, but you've got to make the most of every day afield, even the ones where you're skunked.
And, BTW, I can't make up my mind whether I like the "genie" or "dog with two assholes" jokes, or the "dog named Hillary" story better. The latter, being true, is memorable and likely to be a longtime source of one-word amusement at an inside joke among those who were there.
I will say, I once had a female Gordon named Honey. She was very sweet, thus the name, but could be a real pain sometimes, especially since we lived in a city with many cats and discarded pizza crusts. More than I couple times I caught myself yelling at her "Honey! Stop being such a [censored]*!" *[female dog] or some combination of "Honey", "[censored]*" (sometimes amplified with "f'cking")and commanding better behavior. Sometimes I did it on purpose when I knew there were people within earshot who'd be scandalized by my choice of words.
It was a lot of fun taking her for a walk.
