The best part of falling is getting back up again. ~ David Belle
Gentle Readers and Loved Ones,
In case it's not obvious later, I'm going for self deprecation in this post. ..then I'm gonna try for uplifting. As always, you are the judge of my success.
My brother, Mark, used to love the phrase "bust your bucket." I'm kind of fond of it, too....
Basically, I tried to work my way down a steep road embankment, my age and infirmities proved unequal to the task, I overbalanced and busted my bucket. I've got the video to prove it.
Okeydoke, here's the rest of the story. Really close into Le Mars is a very nice plot of land that bottoms out in a meandering creek. Michael identifies the plot by the name of the owners, but I want to avoid that so I call it "Pheasant Bottom". Pheasant Bottom was our last hunt last year and there were birds everywhere. Michael scouted it again this year and saw lots of birds.
So, we decided to try again with four hunters and Rory. It's a big, sprawling property with lots of room for the birds to run, so Michael, Rory and I were going to block and Brandon and Ryan went up to the far end for a two pronged push down into the area most likely to hold birds.
After we got out of the truck and got all gunned up, Michael asked me - pointedly - if I wanted help down the embankment. Pridefully, I declined and moments later got my hubris rewarded accordingly. I had every intention of somersaulting out of the fall, but age, agility and an earthy hump at the bottom all foiled that plan. I hit like a sack of cliches on my left chest and shoulder area and was immediately concerned about cracking a rib.
Michael came down the embankment and helped me back up. I rallied and started walking down the right side of the creek, doing my job as blocker. The whole time, I'm assessing the damage. Except for a few minor pains, I feel remarkably good for an aging fellow and I thankfully continue hunting.
Way out in the distance, Brandon and Ryan are bouncing up a lot of birds. None are flying in my direction, but Michael is over on the other side of the creek and up the hill a hundred yards or so. He gets a couple of shots. This gives my plenty of time to overly focus on my ribs....
The GoPro captured my honest thanks to the Lord for letting me get away with being really stupid. With some trepidation, I'm sharing it with you here.
Here comes the uplifting part. Not soon after that prayer, a rooster jumps up out of the cover and I make what is quite simply the best wing shot of my life. The GoPro captures it in a video I'm quite proud of. I love how I kept the gun moving out in front of the bird.
One could get all metaphysical about this sequence of events. You go ahead and do that if you want. I'm just proud of the video and humbled by the chain of buffoonery on my part that preceded it.
As a side note, that night, the pains increased. It took about a week for the bruising inside my chest to abate to where I could sleep comfortably. I'm doing really well here a week later.
I let the bird lay there in the field - I could not and did not want to cross the creek to go over to it. Rory was way too for away with the other guys and never marked the fall. We have not progressed in his training to the point where I could blind cast him to the bird. I really missed Rowdy for this.
When I start back training Rory in January, blind casting is one of the skills we are going to work on.
So, I waited while Michael, the other guys and Rory to walk out the rest of the creek bed to retrieve the bird. They heeled Rory over until he was downwind of it and then completed the retrieve. It was pretty anticlimactic. I've got video but I won't subject you to it. It's boring.
So that was my first bird of the day. In the next post, I got my second bird and Rory made a great find and retrieve to hand.
Until then, I remain,
Dad/Geoff
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