It must be late summer, and I have hunting on my mind.
This is my muddy-legged huntin' Standard Poodle, gazing out the cabin door after a long day in the woods and bogs a few years ago. Don't laugh: he points hard, and retrieves. Bred from a line of hunting Standards, and my second from that line. Used to hunt pretty close, but lately ranges too far yet will loop 20 yards left or right on command. Will chase a damn deer in a swamp forever, dang it. That's what whistles and shock collars were made for. He's been good with whistle commands, but I haven't practiced with him lately. Also known to point on mice. Love the guy despite imperfections, and well-aware that any dog's imperfections in training are really the master's laziness.
"Find the bird." He will do that with the greatest of pleasure, but it might very well be out of range if he puts the bird up or points on it. Loves the job, loves the hunt. Like most field dogs, cannot understand how any human can miss a bird. "No bird, no bird." They look at you like you're an idiot. You are supposed to be God.
I cannot clean a shotgun with him in the room. He goes berserko with excitement. All hunting dogs know the difference between hunting gear and ordinary outdoor stuff.
There is no work-out like a few days over hill and dale and busting brush in Maine near the Quebec border, pursuing the Ruffed Grouse (they call it pa'tridge up there - or "chicken") and Woodcock. Gosh, I just love it, even though you occasionally annoy a cranky moose.

Tracked: Sep 07, 08:30
Tracked: Sep 07, 08:30