Scott Linden Outdoors

My brother Jeff was meeting us to start this leg of the Awesome Upland Road Trip. When he walked into the hotel lobby, all was good. 

I’d gifted the gun I shoot best to him last year in hopes he’d learn to use it on clay targets if nothing else … after all, he lives in California. He’d brought it along and said he was even willing to use it – should the need arise – on Central Valley pheasants.

The afternoon raced by, Jeff watching from behind the cameras, carrying gear, and even spotting several points by Buddy and Manny. One “find” was Jeff’s crowning glory as a hunter wannabe: he located Buddy locked up in tall grass, a quarter mile away. We hoofed it, and Manny raced toward the accumulating crowd, slamming into a magazine-cover honor of Buddy’s staunch posture. Puppy-like, he stole the point from his tolerant (and steady) uncle, the bird rose and both our host Brad Henman and I brought it down, sharing the glory with the dogs and my brother’s newfound bird “huntng” skills. 

With two dogs, I guess I should get used to situations like the final find of this day. Maybe you’ve seen it: nephew and uncle working a track, one snuffles right, the other left. As handler, I go out on a limb and predict a find for Uncle Buddy and his more experienced nose. But the bird erupts from the tall Sudan grass Manny’s been working, a hard left-right crosser that I put enough lead on, for a change.

What do you think? Did Buddy go up the track toward the bird’s starting point? By chance, was Manny’s route simply the stronger (and building as he closed on the ringneck) scent trail? Every flush, every point, was having its desired effect on my brother, with adrenaline flowing as birds cackled out of blackberries or threaded through eucalyptus trees, evading our shot strings. Our debrief over Monday Night Football clarified matters completely. Jeff would hunt tomorrow and finally join our fraternity.