Proud of yourself, little man?

So, apparently there's no point to the Universe as the only ducks I saw were a million fucking miles in the sky. Out of range. Out of sight. So very windy that the trees were all bent sideways about ten feet up. Painful. On the plus side I had a little island all to my self, well, Ghost was there too. I did have to carry dekes and bag and gun 100 yards through the water. Then I went back for the dog. And vice versa on the way out. I'd do it again, of course, but just with some shootable ducks.

Peace out, bitches!

Are we Ducks or what?

The winds are blowing heavy and cold. They have been all day. All my gear is in the car. I can't wait! If there's a point to the universe ducks will be flying and dying.

Peace out, bitches!

Well, a gun that's unloaded and cocked ain't good for nothin'.

So it ends: raining and somewhat unsuccessful but nonetheless enjoyable. I shot five pheasant in five days and all of them were over my dog. My goofy, hyperactive little dog turned into a real hunting dog on this trip and I couldn't be happier. Sure, I threatened to kill him a couple of days ago when he ran off into a cornfield but that was then and this is now and while he smells like alfalfa and ass I still love him. The skies opened up on us this afternoon but a couple of beers and a few shots of tequila later I'm not too bothered by it all. We had fun, we talked shit, we walked forever, and we managed to get a couple of birds in the pot. All's well.

Photos for you and yours.

Peace out, bitches!

Such a lot of guns around town and so few brains! You know, you're the second guy I've met today that seems to think a gat in the hand means the world by the tail.

So today was much better. I'm reborn. I sat in the beautiful fall woods by a gently flowing stream, my dog at my heel, leaves the color of fire and the deepest blue sky as the backdrop. I sat in this serene state with a twenty year old shotgun and a simple wooden mouth call and tried to trick a covey of quail into walking into their deaths. It was so wonderfully calming and real and of the moment and I will remember it forever.

Here are some photos of the day. I hope you enjoy them and realize that hunting is more than just killing and shooting. It's also fathers and sons and friends and challenging yourself and being out amongst the flora and fauna that you never see when surrounded by steel and concrete and plastic and people.

Peace out, bitches!

We should have shotguns for this kind of deal.

How depressing. No birds added to the pot today. I never even fired my weapon. Oh no, wait, I took an impossible shot at a quail and missed. V shot a pheasant and then lost it in the brush. Typical. Grey, cold, rained a little. Nothing else to report other than that I'm totally bummed out. Our little spot isn't treating us too nicely this year. Sadness.

Peace out, bitches!

Some weird fuckin' shit, eh, Bud?

Here are some more photos. Venard got a bird. The second one is the pile of burrs I pulled off of and out of my poor little dog. The last one is my new motto and comes from the back of a little old ladie's electric wheel chair. Go Oregon!

We walked a million miles and only got one bird and we are getting crazy. Of course, on the way out we saw three roosters just chillin' by the side of the road. Ah, yes, the peaceful joys of hunting.

Peace out, bitches!

"You missed, Mr. Bond." "Did I?"

Here are some snaps from the first day of hunting out here in the wilds of Eastern Oregon. It's tough but at least we're all together.

Peace out, bitches!