Sally’s Lesson

As our Fall wingshooting season approaches all too slowly, I thought you might enjoy a true story.  

My good friend’s name was Dave Miller. It was October in PA and Dave’s client wanted to go pheasant hunting. Dave set it up. Knowing I was very experienced in this, Dave called me and asked if I would please join them to back up the client’s shooting. Of course Dave, and thanks.  

Saturday morning found us overlooking the Fall countryside in glorious splendor. Dancing with anticipation, Dave’s older Lab Sally was showing us her impatience, her anticipation contagious. 

I loaded 2 shells and placed the open Model 21 over my shoulder. Glancing left, I watched and sensed the client would be safe to hunt with. Even with Sally’s urgency, she stayed close allowing the three of us a more relaxed pace as we entered this endlessly long field.

She stopped, signaling us to get ready. Two beautiful roosters went up and the client fired three times. Not a feather! Savoring where I was standing, I just watched. As the client proceeded to reload, Dave looked over at me. My expression, asking for forgiveness, said…thanks Dave, I really am glad I’m here. Next time, I’ll shoot. 

Sally stood very still for a noticeably long moment, staring at Dave. She finally pardoned us and forged ahead. As we were soaking up the fellowship in the hunt, I saw Sally look back to make sure we were paying attention. The cackling and flush were the same as the first…and so were the results. I could not fire as the birds went left where the client was standing. Our client was 0 for 6. As Dave was reassuring the client, I noticed Sally lying down, studying the three of us over her grey muzzle. Our eyes met and I’m tellin’ you, she was not happy. An omen.

At the whistle, Sally led us further down this very long field. The tangled woodpile ahead looked promising. The client went left, I to the right. We were ready. Sally did the deed and up they went. And went. Again, the birds had gone left so I could only watch them lock their wings and slowly glide into the tree line. As the shotgun echoes faded, I was disappointed for the client and Dave, but mostly for Sally. The uncomfortable silence revealed some disappointment in all of us.

That’s when Sally walked through us, ignoring Dave’s whistle and commands. For what seemed like forever, we watched her recede in the long distance back to the truck. She stopped, turned, looked at us, went under the truck and lay down. Dave explained to the client she’d just gone back for water. Me? I went for a short walk, trying unsuccessfully to stifle myself.

We lost Dave to cancer the following year and Sally right after. Dearly, I still miss them both. We’ll get’em next time Sally…I promise.

We appreciate your visiting with us. Here’s hoping our paths cross this summer.  

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