The Old Gun Dog Shows Her Stuff
Because of the auspicious circumstances Bella came into our lives I was not too concerned if she was a good hunter. The idea was to rescue a dog, preferable one that no one wanted. Bella fit the bill and would have had her subscription cancelled if we or some one else didn’t take her in. The thought, the musing, the idea that she would be a hunter was value add. She seemed to know her stuff the first time we went afield, so on the next outing I was cautiously optimistic. Larsons Lot looks like a former farm complete with an abandoned apple orchard with next-generation growth in what was once open field. The state of CT cuts zig-zagging trails through the tall grasses that could confound any animal under 20 inches tall. In parts it is like a hedge maze on a lauded estate. With the Ruger Red Label in the crook of my arm we started working the edges and rough, and soon there after Bella locked into a point worthy of a Currier & Ives print. Ruger at the ready I saw the cock (rooster for those of you who are squeamish) and tried to kick the brilliant-colored bird into flight. Except the cock had other plans and ran a few feet and sat. Bella locked onto the bird again and gave me a look. Yes. I do know what I’m supposed to do. She didn’t believe me and the bird took off running again. I shouldered the Ruger. My hunch was right. The put-and-take bird had caught a tall full of shot. We put him out of his misery and Bella was as happy as a pointer could be. Back home she would not let Cooper near her bird. She sat next to it gloating. You did good old gal. I rubbed her behind her ears. I knew you had it in you. I won't ever doubt you again.