Autumn Motives

Each time, before going on a hunt, determines the direction of the wind. Without this, a visit to land with a gun, and even more so with a gun, is not always convenient, and can not be justified. Adjust, you can always correct, as they say, on the go, but I define it exactly where I’m going.

Autumn Motives

In the courtyard of the beginning of October, so, today’s mood for flyway woodcock. Why flyway? Because site-tion now few and he nastegan mushroom pickers that rises at the slightest danger, remaining out of reach, or is clogged in such lining that only legashu possible to come and discover, to take the stand. But no more. Step up and do an aimed shot almost fails, it breaks down at the first corner and goes well, sometimes even invisible.

Although it happened that almost in the open sitting so tightly to the dog that it is possible with a gun at the ready quietly to circumvent both the circle and begin to have doubt what is happening, thought, and it was then that he and manages to break away and go unpunished, followed by a hasty pursuit shot, and sometimes even without it.

It is now, as I write these lines, Alan has peacefully asleep, snoring slightly, ulegshis on his right side, his head resting on his right leg, as if hiding behind left. «Oil Painting»And only a couple of hours ago, I could not recall it, he was so excited, sorting out what is happening.

Icy Morning, overcast. Easy, but some uncomfortable breeze. Well, indeed, everything as it should be, probably in October. In any hunting season, each month has its own rules of hunting, its requirements. Imbued with them and October. Most often it is bad weather, coupled with the dampness, to shiver in the body cold accommodations, if any, occur because the body has not yet been rebuilt and keeps in memory fine September days are a gentle sun and even dancing or tolkuscheysya to the good weather, midges, and suddenly the temperature night sometimes drops to zero. Or notice how the air slowly, as if reluctantly, dropped to the ground, as if from a foam-formation, the first snowflakes, which immediately become invisible.

On Alan collar-collar, last year produced and repeatedly tried, wide, made out of bright orange strips of cloth, folded with two sewn gum like a hollow cylinder.
I put it just over the head of a dog. He is very well seen in conditions when the withered grass and various plant acquired in October of color, when color Kurtz lost on the general background and helps me to keep track of his movement in the bush and just in the tall grass.

Actually, to be honest, the weather does not cause much optimism. Autumn is the autumn, ahead of a long, probably prolonged winter, which, in my opinion, reaching almost half a year, if we start counting from the first of November until April woodcock. Autumn affects me more distressingly, aggravated any sores, and the years are starting to take their toll.

If earlier I said I was indecently good shot, which I did not agree, but who is not flattering, but now often ask why limp? And today, perhaps without realizing, along with camouflage and boots, without noticing it, I «allotment» not in the mood, and some confusion, the weather and the state of its inherent. It happens…

Think about a sad (in the winter I do not hunt, and so it seems that runs it for me even longer), I notice that the gun lying in the crook of his left hand, somehow it seems harder than usual, and the fingers of his right hand, holding the neck of the lodge, experiencing some discomfort. Well, just someone else’s gun. On top of his knees ache a bit, apparently, today is not my day. I understand that the shooting with such associations can not be effective, but continue to trail.

Orange Collar Alan does not always work perfectly. Around thickets of young birch and vines with tiny glades, and hunt in such difficult conditions. Leaving in search of game, it is often for some time drops out of control, that is out of sight, and then I go into some confusion. Whether understands somewhere nabrodah, or finds me and is about to announce and perhaps already is, stretching his head, pointing to the game. But that’s where?

This situation returns to reality. I stop and look around carefully all around me. Dogs are not visible. After standing for a minute or two, I decide to go in that direction, where to go, for sure Alan grabbed something, and that would have already been announced.

Since then, the hunt as it ceases to be a classic with a gun and goes into the category almost Brodova hunt alone, but retained some intrigue, and his gun becomes yours, and you turn yourself into a whole with it. It appears passion, and your own gait begins to resemble cautious Prowl. My gut – game and a dog somewhere nearby.

…Took off almost simultaneously my right, twenty-five meters, a couple of grouse leaves, covered often overgrown with young birch trees. Only then did I notice Alan, took a few steps – towards soaring. I understand that the dog is nervous, after standing on them, waiting for my approach, who saw me walking party, waiting for completion, and it was not followed. I want to beckon legasha, talk, thank you for a job, try to explain that shoot, I still would not, as a license to grouse we have closed our goal today is the woodcock, of course, if you’re lucky, but that’s noticed Alan again the deserted .

Now, apparently, it’s my turn to be nervous. Well, what you’ve become, I say to him, flew after, have not seen what? Alan? .. Do not react to my words, in contrast, adopting even more tense posture, stretched over the body makes only half a step and then stops, leaving a raised paw, exactly in the same place where rose grouse.

These are the times, I am almost at a loss; then I take off the shoulder, then again at the ready to receive a gun, marking time in one place, at the same time believing and not believing the dog, trying to decide what to do. It is then, a little later, I will understand and remember – it happens, it is then I’ll curse yourself that the dog can not not believe it then, hiding his eyes, I’ll look up words, justifying and crouching in front of her, and now woodcock, like a spring-loaded, torn literally a few meters away from the dog and using my indecision, safely away. Rogue, appeared between me and the dog, the wind got up and immediately hid behind bushes. A late charge «Six» only tore the last leaves.

…Dog and man exist side by side for centuries. Dog loyalty, sincerity, intelligence, willingness to go after the man when and where you like, affection, readiness to sacrifice hit. Loyalty always carefully looking at your eyes, expression, trembling or dignity, anxiety, purity of thoughts fascinate.

The dog can not be fooled – read the lies in your eyes, in your voice. Understand, feel, do not believe it. Realizing – humble, to suffer, to be offended, but forgive anyway. There will always be glad and rejoice in your return and your friends by taking them once. Sometimes it seems to me that the dog is able to be proud of something one she understood. So much dignity and, if anything, of nobility and elegance in the manner seen in her often.

Nature gives every creature of God on your own. It is not always, and not every owner of a family tree is a proud owner of the diploma of the champion, sometimes for reasons does it not have, but the fact that having a dog and giving her his love you in return receive a hundredfold more, it is indisputable. This is called a merger of the human mind and canine fidelity. No wonder they say, you want to find yourself a friend, the head of a dog.

Dog next to it when there is with whom to meet and share the holiday weekdays. Some people believe that hunting without a dog does not make sense, I think that it is. For me, a setter is synonymous with hunting on a feather, even if the hunt was unsuccessful.

I consider myself fortunate in life, and that it started with my barefoot childhood, from the time when I first father entrusted to clean the gun, and maybe much as before.

October can be uncomfortable to find an alternative somewhere on the coast, but here I can not explain to myself why? To then suffer the lost time?

Hunt, you’re beautiful! We love you and you do not ever change!
 

Vladimir Kozyavin22 October 2013 at 00:00

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