We hit the truck with 45 minutes of shooting light left and called it early, thinking about a cold PBR and a little dirt road cruise before sundown.
We’d let the setter run earlier and watched her crash into a few birds with no points, then finished the afternoon of with the steady old flusher.
Our legs were sore and the sweat from the middle of the day, uphill charges was starting to feel too cold against my skin. It was one of those perfect days where, for no particular reason, things just didn’t work out.
It felt good to climb into the truck, to shed layers and weight and be warm.
But then they crossed in front of us and the plan changed. Maybe 15 or 16 huns, flying low, dropping into a piece of public ground a few hundred yards in.
I grabbed a pocketful of 7.5s and a shotgun, no time for hats or vests.
I let Luna out with a few whispered pleas of “easy” as we slipped into the sage.
Dammit.
Two coveys flushed, 100 yards ahead of the dog.
We hunted the edge to the corner and watched as she made a high-speed swing across the stubble, coming to a hard stop on a fence line 200 yards ahead.
A short sprint later we slowed, walked in and huns rose in formation and swung to my left, as if they too wanted me to make a shot.
The stars aligned and two birds fell, one a runner that my young pup chased down and picked up, bringing it within about 10 feet of me before dropping it and watching in confusion as it darted away again.
But then they crossed in front of us and the plan changed. Maybe 15 or 16 huns, flying low, dropping into a piece of public ground a few hundred yards in.
I grabbed a pocketful of 7.5s and a shotgun, no time for hats or vests.
I let Luna out with a few whispered pleas of “easy” as we slipped into the sage.
Dammit.
Two coveys flushed, 100 yards ahead of the dog.
We hunted the edge to the corner and watched as she made a high-speed swing across the stubble, coming to a hard stop on a fence line 200 yards ahead.
A short sprint later we slowed, walked in and huns rose in formation and swung to my left, as if they too wanted me to make a shot.
The stars aligned and two birds fell, one a runner that my young pup chased down and picked up, bringing it within about 10 feet of me before dropping it and watching in confusion as it darted away again.
Some days, it all comes together.
Mouthful of Feathers 
Good stuff, have enjoyed reading your posts and hope to contribute some day. Not much of a writer, but have plenty of stories to share of gundawgs and game birds. Tim
Great read… thanks!
It’s real nice when a day comes off like that. Thanks for sharing.
Awesome read.
Ben
I had my first double on Huns this year, shot over a solid point by my Ryman setter. I don’t know if it was a true double or a “Scotch” double. I shot twice and two birds came down. Yes, it certainly is a terrific feeling when “it all comes together”.