Fe, our quiet but horse sized German Wirehair Pointer, quietly took field command once our alpha female Lab showed the sad signs of aging. In her heart, Belle a stylish field trial lab without a gray hair, awoke on a Canadian arctic blast morning barely able to lift herself. I call my older hunter friend and he said to get her on Rimadyl, an anti-inflammatory nonsteroid but it was too late. Age had settled on Belle and all she desired warmth and soft bed and canned dog food. Fe was in charge and lifted her head in triumph. She was a Lady in waiting for the last six years and was out to prove her worth. Now was her time like a young baseball player she was ready to step in the and replace the veteran.
Darth Fe Dar or Fe is the type of animal you do not want to let loose at night. She would easily revert to her wolfish habits. Several years ago she escaped near the Quill Lakes in Canada. For three days I looked and searched along the shorelines and woodland patches. Finally at two nights later during a full moon and a blast of northern lights, I heard a whimping outside my camper and Fe was there humbled , cold but alive. I rushed her to the big animal clinic an hour way and waited till the clinic opened. I could feel a huge bulge in her stomach as she lay silently with her head on my lap. The vet was amazed she had survived the wilds. In the end Fe managed to eat whole a muskrat and it was extracted with some laxatives that the Vet used on larger animals. By morning Fe was in the fields retrieving and pointing birds. For now, she is such a gentle, well-mannered German Wirehair intense on finding birds. With her hunting is no game, she is on a mission from God. She wonders why she much take command this year.
Our first 2009 hunt was upland, Huns the querry and it was short sleeve weather. The first coveys of the years held tight and Fe in control held point steady for the first explosion. I would use only a 28 bore this early season and this added to the excitement of up close shooting under extreme weather conditions that came the next day and last for the next four weeks. Hitting doubles with a 28 bore on wild game is as exciting as one deserves.
In driven snow the next day, each step closer I took on point made the moment seem timeless. I gave Fe the order to flush and the explosion of 12 Huns is almost as powerful as chuckar. I rarely recall the mount, point and shoot. I see the fall of a bird or the getaway. The mild crack of the 28 bore burst the bubble and into a conscience world. I wonder where I go during those blackout phase. I am an instinctive shooter and had to reduce my trap and skeet shooting as my shooting habits handicapped me in the field where nanoseconds are driven by impulse and instinct.
