When I was 16, my dog and I ran into a woodcock. Dawn, doing what she did well, pointed him...but was not real sure she should. I flushed him out...fired...missed. I was shooting an old Stevens 311 at the time, in 20 gauge. I saw where he went, so we worked over that way...she pointed, I flushed, I shot....but, I saw where he went...we did it again. Now, I don't really remember how many times I shot at that darn bird that day, but it was...several. I GOT HIM...dog wouldn't retrieve him. Dawn was a great retriever. She just did not like the smell of that little bird. I finally persuaded her to bring him to me. My first woodcock. Tricky little suckers. They make quail seem real easy.
