October 12

Chap is curled up beside me as I type. We are listening to “Jambo Bwana,” an upbeat Swahili melody recorded in the 1980’s. Despite the swinging tune Chap’s eyes are closed. I don’t know how he’s tired – he slept nearly all day in the passenger’s seat after we dropped Dad off at the airport this morning. I guess he’s still fatigued from the three days of hard hunting he put in. The first two days he combed the gentle swells and grain fields of central Montana for pheasants, sharptails and huns. On the third day Dad and I hunted ruffled grouse in the Madison Range. We hunted up mountainsides, over logs and through creeks. At the end Dad and I were tired enough for a Budweiser break, and Chap so tired he could barely hike his leg to pee. As good bird dogs do, he had run five to ten miles for each of the six miles Dad and I walked. (see photo)

A few miles north of Yellowstone NP Chap and I got out of the truck to hunt for a half hour or so. We needed to stretch after a few hours in the truck. It was strange to hunt birds without Dad. First time I’d done it. Chap and I found no birds – it really wasn’t a very good area since there was no grain or water – but I think we’ll do alright together. Chap responded well to my commands. I never needed my whistle. He didn’t even pursue the herd of antelope that trotted past. But he didn’t hunt hard, which is anomalous for Chap. He was disoriented by the bell I hung around his neck, I think, and by his master’s absence. But we’ll get the hang of working together. At the end of the hunt I held Chap down and pulled a cactus spine from his foot, and as sappy as it sounds I think it was a bonding moment for us.

Chap has started to twitch in his sleep – his back legs are pumping as if he were running. Let’s hope there are no cacti in the world of doggie dreams.