No, not my dad - Rook. He's in his 12th year and every time I go hunting I have to decide: take the little firecracker that needs exposure, or take the old hand that has learned the virtues of patience. Hunting with an old dog is bittersweet - he's at the top of his finesse game, but I know it won't last. Here are a few shots from last weekend:
Here I am about 8 yards off the trail. There is no doubt that woodcock hunters are few sandwiches short of a picnic.
Back at the truck. See the grey in his face? Man, it's going to kill me when he goes. Such is life with dogs.
Here I am about 8 yards off the trail. There is no doubt that woodcock hunters are few sandwiches short of a picnic.
Back at the truck. See the grey in his face? Man, it's going to kill me when he goes. Such is life with dogs.
