September 1st hits and it gives us the opportunity to walk old logging roads for forrest chickens.
Bringing a 3 year old into the grouse woods is awesome. You get to see the hunt through their eyes, and Big C was into it. The grasshoppers, the rouge sticks on the road that must be thrown, bird noises...you know, soaking it all in
We didnt have the greatest hope, as it was mid day and pretty dry conditions, but we found a road with a creek next to it and one bird exposed itself .
OMR held Carson back and I did the duty. The dogs dropped down the ridge, found the ruff and returned it to us.
High fives and excited inspection by the boy brought big smiles to all around. I was so excited to be there with him as he experienced the hunt as I had at his age 30 years before.
Five minutes later, I turn around to see Big C in full pout mode. Shocked, I inquired to see what the issue was.
"Not fair, you and Poppa Fay have your own gun, I don't. I want my own gun"
After a quick chuckle and explanation that 3 years old don't have their own guns. Maybe a bb gun in a few years.
But to be honest, I couldn't be prouder.
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