When I was a kid, vacation meant camping.  I'm not really sure whether that was out of financial necessity or whether that was what we liked best.  Maybe a little of both is nearer the truth.  The days would be filled with hiking, swimming, fishing, and other fun activities.  While on vacation, everything was an adventure: searching for the perfect campsite, pitching the tent, running around in the dark at night.

I remember my parents used to say that vacations were bonding times for the family and that not only the good times would cause the bonding but the hardships as well.  A few of my favorite hardships were the time we pitched the tent on top of a red ant colony, with a close second being the time we rented a ski boat for the week and by the second day you couldn't pay us kids to go out in the sun because of the severe sunburn all over our bodies.

I think the point my parents were trying to make was that as long as we were together it didn't matter whether our plans came together or not.  I have to admit, though, I find it easier to glory in the adventures that exceed my expectations than I do in those that remind me that the world definitely does not revolve around my wants and desires.

This may be considered a might long for an introduction to the chronicle of my recent dove hunt with my dog, Jericho, and Mike Kunkel and his dog, Belle, but I always have been a bit of a sentimental sop and it seemed like the best way to communicate that we had a great time.  It was a trip where the plans came together and the outcome exceeded our expectations.  Overall the hardships were few.

In a nutshell, Mike and I did the dove season opener in a safflower field near Bakersfield.  The hunt was a success in that we both bagged our limit of 10 birds and the dogs served us well doing their part marking birds, sniffing out difficult falls in dense cover, and providing general companionship.  However, you have to  wonder what we'll really remember about the trip as time goes by. 

Jericho did do a very nice blind retrieve when I took the time to handle him to a fall he didn't see--hunt test style--rather than marching out there with him and letting him sniff around until he found it.  Belle had a bird fall from the sky less than 10 yards from her and she about stood up on her hind legs with excitement as she pulled on the end of the lead.  Belle and Jericho became good friends that day, as they sniffed out particularly hard to find falls together.  There were moments during the morning when the birds were so thick that you could say "mark" prior to mounting the gun and the dog could pretty well be facing any direction and be marking a potential candidate--more than likely not the one you were planning on swinging on.  The retrieving got so intense that Jericho was worn out.  I sent him to retrieve a bird that I thought I hit but really just landed.  As he got near, it flushed and took off low to the ground with Jericho in pursuit.  After about a 15 yard sprint after it, Jericho broke stride to look at me and the unspoken communication was clear, "Do you really want me to keep running after this bird, I'm kinda tired".   I called him back in.  Belle didn't seem to tire out though.  In fact, she seemed to get more animated as the day wore on and insisted on finishing her retrieves with a little victory dance.

Maybe it will be the hardships that will be remembered the most.    I think I'll remember sleeping, or rather not sleeping, in the back of the pickup with Jericho curled up alongside and the mosquitoes doing their part to make sure I didn't accidentally fall asleep.  I think Mike might remember finding his hunting gear soaked with his only supply of drinking water as we got prepared before first light.  Thanks for the bonding Jericho, Belle, and Mike.  Mike I'm sorry if it was me that kicked the water jug over during the night.