A Season Of New Begins Now

I can't believe it's almost here. Hunting season starts tomorrow.

If you hunt, you get it -- the giddy anticipation and the borderline obsession with last-minute dog training, gun cleaning, and gear gathering. If you don't hunt, then you can probably stop reading this blog and tune in again sometime in January, because between now and then, this little corner of the internet is going to be devoted to birds, dogs, buddies, and the places we all inhabit this time of year.

And what a special, special year this is going to be for me. It's the first season my ten-year-old son will be actively hunting with me. I was lucky enough to draw an opening morning public dove hunt on the Kansas River Wildlife Area, and sunrise tomorrow will find me and Jack in the middle of a sunflower field, heads pointed skyward.  It's a rite of passage -- I vividly remember my first dove hunt at the Cornhusker Army Ammunition Plant with my father nearly 30 years ago. I became hooked on this whole outdoor affliction at that moment -- and I can't wait to pass on the tradition to my boy.

Jack and I have been practicing gun safety and clay target shooting for the past month or so. And after much experimentation with the various scatterguns in my safe, I opted to buy him a Remington 870 youth model.  The gun fits him well, he shoots it well, and while not as elegant as a breech gun, it is pretty much bomb-proof (and hopefully boy-proof).

The other "first" I'll experience this year is hunting behind my now-seven-month-old pointer, LuLu. I'm doing my best to temper my expectations, but I think this dog is going to be a keeper. She has the drive and birdiness that I had hoped for, and she's proven to be a dream to train and handle thus far. Just this morning I had her off lead (having just recently collar conditioned her) and I was thrilled by the graceful 250-yard casts she'd make -- and even more thrilled that she would voluntarily check in every few minutes.

The appreciation for LuLu is magnified when I am reminded of how fragile it all is. Dottie, my eldest dog, is enjoying her air-conditioned solitude indoors while recovering from surgery. While we haven't yet heard back from the veterinary pathologist, I feel pretty confident things will be alright. And if nothing else, the old girl has reminded me to appreciate every moment I'm blessed to be afield.

Happy hunting, everyone. Be safe.

Well, That Was Quick. EPA Shoots Down Proposed Ammo Ban.

Apparently the work of sportsmen and gun nuts makes a difference.  On Friday, the EPA announced that it was denying a petition aimed at outlawing lead in ammunition.  Nicely done, folks!  The NSSF credits a strong grassroots campaign in helping to defeat the measure.

Road Photo Friday: Do Not Touch The Shuttlecock

I was looking for a fun photo to close out a week from hell, and here it is. You may recognize it as part of Shuttlecocks, a huge outdoor sculpture at Kansas City's Nelson Atkins Museum. By sheer coincidence, the four precariously balanced, 5500-pound pop-art icons are celebrating their 16th year in existence on this very day. Crafted by Claes Oldenburg and Coosje van Bruggen, they've become icons in the KC area and beyond.

These photos, I'll have you know, are a tad contraband. See, you're not supposed to touch these works of art -- let alone allow your kids to climb on them. We didn't know that at the time, and shortly after our little photo session began a voice boomed from speakers unknown, PLEASE STEP AWAY FROM THE SHUTTLECOCK. Befuddled, we collected the kids and walked back to our car. Looking over my shoulder, some security guard was hurriedly walking towards us, but we didn't wait around to talk to him.

Happy weekend, everyone.

Gimme Back My Bullets, EPA

Ok, guys, here's a real quick, painless way to write your Senators and Representative and encourage them to prevent the EPA from adopting a complete ban on lead ammunition.

They're using the Toxic Substance Control Act of 1976 as their basis, except the law specifically calls out ammo as exempt from the rules.  Make no mistake --the Obama-appointed people behind this proposal are more interested in a de-facto gun ban than saving any kind of wildlife.  Not only that, but there's never been any legitimate, peer-reviewed study that I've found that connects wildlife mortality to the ingestion of lead.

The NSSF has the full story here, and you can send an email or letter to your elected officials here.  Do it now -- the whole shebang takes less than a minute, and it could help save the future of our sport.

Home, And Dog Tired

Well, the surgery is successful, and other than the 8-inch incision in her belly, Ol' Dottie seems to be fine.  A little drugged up, but who wouldn't be?  She gets the sutures out in a couple of weeks, which, by my calendar, means she ought to be ready (although a bit out of shape) for the Kansas chicken opener.  I'll say this much -- it's nice knowing she'll at least go on the trip.

Of course, we are still on pins and needles waiting for the biopsy to come back, but we can all breathe a bit easier knowing we did what we could to get to the most pressing problem.

Thanks to all of you for your comments, emails, phone calls, and silent prayers.  They mean more to me and my family than words can describe.  We'll keep you posted.

Prayers, Mojo, and Good Thoughts for Dottie

My ace is sick.  Dottie -- my decade-old pointer bitch -- has a nearly-golfball sized mass in the breast tissue under one of her nipples.

While I was carousing and being immortal with the boys over the weekend, my family had our eldest bird dog in the house.  Plenty of loving and petting ensued (as it should), and they noticed the lump.  It's fast growing, for sure.  It was just a couple weeks ago that she was at the vet for her routine checkup.  While I'm relieved we caught it quickly, I'm also alarmed by its rapid growth.  My wife -- an RN who's talked me off numerous ledges throughout our marriage -- assured me that ol' Dot can lick this.  Despite her confidence, the dull, acidic aluminum taste seeped into the back of my mouth -- the same one I encounter in the worst times of my life.  Worry.  Bad News.  Sickness.  Death.

So Dot goes under the knife on Wednesday.  Funny how it works.  A week ago, my string was as tight as it's ever been.  Dottie as the wily veteran.  Vegas (finally) coming into her own, and LuLu impressing. 

And now this.

My first question to my wife -- as any bird dogger would ask: will she hunt this season?  It starts the 15th.  We've got places to go, goddammit.  The vet was confident, thankfully.  And, thankfully, so was my wife.  So we sit.  And pray.  My girl might not be immortal after all. 

And if she's not...

Road Photo Friday: Drive South

Gratuitous Puppy Photo.

All is well.  The Ram is pointed towards the equator, XM's Outlaw Country is churning out some classic Son Volt, and the beautiful Flint Hills are passing by at a brisk 75mph.

Wes and I got a jumpstart on a bachelor party weekend this morning and visited Skyview Setters outside of El Dorado, Kansas.  Some nice looking, nice running shaggies.

Now it's onto Oklahoma City, for some R&R by the pool, carousing in Bricktown this evening, and tomorrow night's Reckless Kelly show at the Wormy Dog.

Bird dogs, beer, and bands... I think I could get used to this.