[drink up, little boy, drink up]

We hunted tonight. Just the two of us. It was exactly how these photo look — relaxed, quiet, faint gold light, bristling douglas fir, grouse lifting off like heavy helicopters, uphill, downhill, crumpled and rumpled landscape, stumbling, sweat, sunset, dusk, platinum grasses, burned out indian paintbrush, a breeze, a meadowlark, the song of my soul worn on the surface of my skin…and more.

 I love this dog.  He loves me too.

 I love Idaho.  Idaho loves me too.

Tomorrow night, it’s Farley’s turn.  I came home to a torn up house, he was so upset (even at the age of 10) to be left behind…

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I really love to hunt birds.  I love the land I get to know by walking while I hunt.  I love the sunsets, sunrises and spectacular moments in nature I get to witness while I’m out there.  I love to watch my dogs work, to watch them do what they were bred and born and raised to do.  I love to encourage them, congratulate them for work well done and when it’s needed, spank them on the buns for a job done poorly.  They live for this, I live for partnership with them — we work terribly hard, together.  I love to earn my food, to be responsible for the end of its good life — it makes me appreciate every bite and the transfer of energy therein.  I’ve always liked bird hunting.  But now I know I love it, now that I will go out on my own, even when Robert is away, to hunt alone with my dogs on the land I love…now I know I love it.