American Brittany, American Dad: September 2016

Sometimes I wonder what I may write about next, and even get a little nervous that I may eventually run out of new material. But I've finally realized with every adventure we go on, the material creates itself. It's not even my matieral really, it's the fabric of our lives, and you just cannot make this stuff up, so I hope you enjoy.

Well the wait up to the much anticipated September 1st Dove opener is finally over. We had a an increadable day, of Dove action, shooting (mostly poor), laughter (at a lot of that shooting), a little foul language, and making more memories. I hope you enjoy hearing about the day as much as we all did living it.

For some strange reason every year August 31st seems to bring me a last minute challenge of some sort that seemingly has to be dealt with right then (at least in my own mind). I guess it's just because once September 1st hits, I don't want any lingering issues that will loom over me until I have fulfilled my duties. I can remember in recent years, grouting tile at 1:30 in the morning to complete a kitchen remodel just before hunting season kicked off early the next morning. In other years brake jobs on cars, and this year it was our current washer and dryer dying and having to be replaced. So, 8-31-16 7:00PM Baylee and I were headed to Lowes to purchase a new washer and Dryer. The installation started about 8:30 and of course step 1 was getting the old front loaders out. I couldn't quite remember getting that heavy front load washing machine down into the basement of our Bi-level home, but I think it is because, it originally went into place through our previous lower level garage (that is now Hunters bedroom). Well most of you know that I'm no little guy myself, and so surely with the help of my strapping 600 club, 16 year old Nolan, we could easily dolly that washer right up those stairs and out the front door, right? Wrong! It didn't matter how we positioned ourselves, that stupid thing was just beyond the combined capacity of what the two of us could lift. Well Dove season was just hours away, so desperate times call for desperate measures. So after a quick consult with Nolan, and a little "hillbilly ingenuity" we had my F150 backed up to the front door, and a rope running through the front door and down the stairs into the basement. We connected it to the two wheel dolly, with that washing machine strapped to it. Nolan did the driving, and I rode the machine right up those stairs and out the front door. (All against the advice of my doubting and nervous kids Hunter and Owen). With this removal complete, the reinstallation went smoothly, and we were back in the laundry business by 11:00pm. I quickly transitioned into "loading mode" to get all the needed gear loaded up and ready for early the next morning. Now we don't utilize our Brittany's for dove hunting, but there is no keeping secrets from the dogs as I'm loading up the truck as to what is going on. They recognize the smells of hunting season, from the guns and ammo, to the clothes. Remi firmly planted herself in the front seat of my truck while I was loading it as if to say, You are NOT leaving me home tomorrow, I'll wait here. She remained in the front seat the entire hour plus that I loaded the truck.

Well the alarm went off bright and early and even on very little sleep, we never seem to struggle to get up for any type of hunting season. This year since September 1st fell on a Thursday and Nolan in the midst of football season, wasn't able to miss school to go. So 1 amigo short Owen and I met Pop at my office in Columbus at 5:30 and headed to Deer Creek wildlife area. We made our way back to a nice suitable dove field, manicured with a combination of standing corn and burnt/tilled edges loaded up with a number of other hunters as well. (Which we so fondly refer to as "Wankers") The action started fast for Owen and Pop (I wasn't hunting at this point, just taking video, keeping a close eye on Owen for gun safety and proper species identification, and bird dogging for both of them when a bird was downed). The shooting started a little a rough for Owen (who had high hopes now sporting his 20 guage Autoloader instead of a single shot 4-10 like last year). But finally he connected on one, and it crashed to the ground right out in front of us in the tall grass just beyond the burnt edge. "Nice Shot!" I cheered as I jumped up to go after the retrieve. As I walked out of our spot in the corn, I noticed a Wanker (an older guy) also walking towards where the bird had came to rest. I said, "did you shoot at that bird as well?" (Having only heard Owens shot) "Yes, I killed it" he replied. Now I don't normally dispute over who shot birds at all (for several reasons) (I'm not super confrontational with people carrying a gun for one, and two there are plenty of birds to go around anyway) But in this case it was Owens bird, and I was sure he hit it. Plus he had been getting a little frustrated with all the missing birds he had been doing. So I thought No, I am pursuing this a little harder. I replied, "well you may have shot at it, but I am fairly certain that is my 11 year old sons bird. I actually got it on video" I said. Again, he replied "I killed it and I'm taking it". I quickly shot back " Are you really going to steel a bird from an 11 year old kid? He spouted back with some sarcastic nasty remark, about me running my mouth but he was still taking the bird. Well part of telling theses stories is being truthful, even when I am not proud of it. So here it goes.... I lost my cool, and instead of taking advantage of a good teachable moment regarding sportsmanship with Owen, I spouted back at that nasty old man went on to call him an "old bastard". (Possibly more than once or twice over the next little bit) my blood was boiling to say the least. Well I finally settled down and we went on about our hunt. A little while later that same Wanker shot another bird., and without missing a beat Owen said "Dad look, the Old Bastard shot another one"! "Owen!!!" I said, "You can't say that, it's a bad word!" "Oh!" He blushed. "Dad I'm sorry, I didn't know, I mean it's what you called him!" Well sometimes nothing is better for self reflection then hearing your exact words repeated out of your child's mouth....

Well after gathering myself, we went on about our morning. We had a quick visit from a couple nice conservation officers who were doing their jobs, and checking licensing and making sure hunters had plugs in their guns. Well not long after they left us, they were down talking to my new friend (the old bastard) and as it turns out they busted him for illegally baiting his area for scattering fresh corn all over the area. (Couldn't have happened to a nicer guy) Well the officer came back our way and ask us if we had seen him spreading the corn. Well whether you call it Karma, or the old phrase what goes around comes around either way his fate rested in our hands now. I looked the officer in the eye and told him this. "As much I would love to say yes to that question, I can't. Sadly, we didn't see him do anything of the sort,even though he is a nasty old man." Shortly after we left that field, and headed on down to Fallsville for the afternoon hunt.

Fallsville -

Pop had gotten lucky and got drawn in the Lottery for the controlled hunt at Fallsville. Getting drawn for a spot means that he got to take one buddy with him and you get to hunt in the controlled fields where there is a lot less hunters. Well after some careful consideration we all decided that it was best for Owen to go with Pop into the controlled hunt, and Matt Schmalz and I headed into Fallsville South AKA "Wanker Central" (a non controlled public hunting area with TOO Many hunters). It was a wild day with tons of shooting, and getting peppered with other people's shots! I got a second hand story from Pop and Owen about a one of the birds that Owen shot. He knocked a bird down about 15-20 yards away. He went out to pick it up, reached down grabbed it and as he stood up it came back to life and literally flew out of his hand. As it blasted off as fast as it could, Owen quickly shouldered his gun and touched off his last two rounds dropping the bird again, on the second report. This time it hit ground dead, and Owen retrieved the bird with ease.

Well at the end of it all we bagged a total of 56 Doves. Matt Shot 15, Dad shot 15, I shot 15 and Owen shot 11

I'm really thankful that Owen and Pop got to share the day together. These days with a Grandpa and Gradnson are simply unreplacable, and should treasured. I'm sure they have tons more stories that the two of them will always have in common that I don't know about, and that is exactly what this is all about. It was even a nice time for me, since most of the time I get out I spend focusing on the kids and dogs. But on this afternoon, Pop was in charge of Owen so I just had my own self to worry about. (And all the Wankers of course). You can tell from the pictures below that no went home disappointed, and another fall is in the crosshairs.

In this day and age where people are so out of touch with the animals that feed us, there is something really special about sitting down to enjoy a meal that you personally harvested. Some of you may not get this, but for those of you who have experienced this you really appreciate the sacrifice of the animal that is feeding you and your family. You can see in the pictures below, we really enjoyed this meal.

Remi's litter has started leaving and going home, and now only 4 puppies remain. Once we get them all delivered, I will post a final blog on Remi's puppies. (Not to be too big of a spoiler but there may be a new up and comer in the Larison Brittany's hunting line) Wait and See...

I hope you have enjoyed the post.

Sincerely,

Matt

Remi protesting - (NO DOG LEFT BEHIND!)