Not just another bird hunt

One of my fondest memories of childhood is going bird hunting in southwest Idaho with my dad and uncle. Hunting quail and pheasants from Council to Weiser, stretching along the endless miles of railroad tracks, the hundreds of acres of cultivated farmland and CRP fields, and jump shooting waterfowl in stock ponds and slack water in the Weiser River drainage. All of these things are events that I remember when I think back to those days over 20+ years ago.

This past Thanksgiving I was fortunate enough to have my dad come down south and visit us.  As things worked out we were able to make it out bird hunting one day for a few hours.

It was different this time as I was the one with the dog, but luckily my pooch didn't embarrass me too badly in front of the old man.

 But as much as they were different they were still the same, father and son were out hunting together again.  We got into some quail and a few pheasants but never were able to get a shot, and that was ok with me, because I was happy just to be out with my dad again hunting.