Dad and I hit the same spot as yesterday. Nothin'. Dad shot at one high flyer that was circling and really wanted in across the creek....desperation shot. Funny how much difference one day can make. Yesterday we saw maybe a hundred birds in there...today, nada.
Perry slipped in behind us and farther down the creek. I flushed a hen mallard from the swamp straight to him. He said it was the first bird he'd shot in three years. Never thought I'd see a three year drought with one of those brothers....we all get busy with softball or other things our kids are doing. It was nice to see him there. Root's getting pretty old and gimpy...Perry says he's twelve...old Labrador.
Sparks has closed for good. There'll probably be more of that with this economy struggling. We went up to the Mineral Restaurant for breakfast after the hunt. Picked up another beagle pup, Jack, from Allen this week....more on Jack later.
Falling temps and rain were the prediction for the afternoon, but since it was the last day of late doves we thought we'd give it a try. Went over to the Bibb place and set up in a bean field. The birds were working a line between the beans and a patch of picked over corn. We sat against some power poles, but it's a big field and hard to hunt with only a few guns. About three the rain started and Dad headed home. Flip and I stuck it out for another hour before we'd had enough too.
Big flocks were flying, maybe twenty to forty in each, but they were few and far between, and they never seemed to light where you wanted them. I killed three and called it a season. We headed home to the fire and some hot chocolate.
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