IN THE COMPANY OF DOGS fast food wrappers, cans, broken bottles, used condoms, and the decomposing carcasses of two deer, tenderloins ripped out, probably the work of poachers. Always, before we let our dogs out, we check the ground for broken glass and the obnoxious stuff that dogs like to wolf down, like rabbit guts and rotten food. Only then do we put on their e-collars and bells. From there it is a short walk to woodcock territory. Paul and I have introduced a few hunting buddies to the charms of Drunken Priest. Admission is free, but the knowledge is secret, we tell them. The penalty for disclosure is a severed trigger finger, we warn in jest, I think. I’ve seen only one intruder in “our” covert. That was when, fighting my way through a nearly impenetrable tangle along the Richard Hirneisen with two Woodcock and Georgie edge of the swamp behind one of my wirehairs, I heard a voice from above. Sometimes we see other hunters in the parking “Hello,” it said. lot. Usually they have beagles with them, for I looked up and saw a bowhunter perched on hunting cottontail rabbits. If they ask, we tell them a treestand. He waved, probably not in friendly we’re just training our dogs, haven’t see a game bird greeting, but wanting me to know where he was, just around here for years. We never show them a dead a case whatever I was hunting flew up his way. woodcock.
Kurt with his first Woodcock and Georgie
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WIRE NEWS
Karl and Georgie
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