As Friday's sometimes pan out, I had but a fleeting moment to decide to collect gear and go chase roosters or not. I hauled home, grabbed a hand full of shells and Mocha, and blasted out to the field. Upon cresting the hill, a rooster stood in the middle of the road right next to our spot. Though he flew the wrong direction, it was a great omen for the quick walk. Once in park and speed walking to the far fenceline, we had a hair over 30 minutes of legal light left. I didn't even have time to find the collar for Mocha, so we were truly flying free today.
I just let her work.
It is hard to describe experience but watching Mocha was like watching a veteran wood carver; every corner smoothed, every knot worked. It was great to see her back out in her element again. at the far end of the main section, Mocha flushed three roosters in succession out in front of me. I dropped the first one without a problem, and my gun jammed with the second bird. As I was trying to fix my gun, a third got up to our left in the main section but dropped right back in. I never did see exactly where it went but had an idea of its location. As I finished de-plugging my gun, Mocha came right up to me with a great big rooster in her mouth. She gingerly laid it at my feet and laid down, waiting for me to continue again. Once back in operation, we finished the loop in the fenceline. Even in her wise years, Mocha was fooled twice by old long-tailed roosters. The first flushed wild, the second bellied crawled through short pasture grass before flushing well out of range. These late season birds are tough!
As we looped back to the main section I was hoping we would find that third rooster somewhere. I watched as my old pup worked slowly back and forth. She knew there was something in this patch and I was waiting for the flush. As we continued on I glance over as Mocha bolts to my left and hauls into the open field. I start running with her as I figured we had a runner. She comes to a dirt flying halt and bolts back into the grass pulling a giant loop. At that moment I knew what she was doing.
Mocha in her old age, was smarter than this bird. She got out ahead of it and was pushing it back towards me. When she finally caught back up with the bird, everything happened in slow motion.
Mocha was buried in the grass before coming to a stop. With her ears perked up, tail straight, and a grizzled old muzzle, she had the bird on point. Without having to say a word, she flushed the bird right at me and I was able to hit it on the first shot, and pull it down on the second. As I reloaded, Mocha was already halfway back to me with the kicking rooster.
She earned this one fair and square. We did not see another bird the last leg of our section, and we had not a minute to spare by the time we got back to the car.
I enjoy working my the Tasmanian Lou dog, but I sure do enjoy hunting with Mocha. We have hunted enough that she is an extension of me, knowing my movements before I do them. It is great to have these quick little hunts as her days are numbered. I hope Lou can be half the dog Mocha has become.
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