A couple weekends ago Mark went hunting with his dad, our friend Chris, and some huntin' buddies. I really like this picture--the flatness, the solid colors, the anxious dog, and the hunter in wait. 
Boy Kansas is flat. This picture makes the feild look dry, but the next day the heavens opened up. The water ran off Jimmy and filled up his boots twice. Chris took the position of blocker to get out of the rain. Sounds miserable.
I have to brag about my husband for a moment: he brought home the most birds! Then he was really good to me and cleaned them all himself.
This was the first time Mark hunted with a dog, a pointer to be exact. I was certain that Mark would come home wanting a dog, but the pup didn't have the nose I came to expect from my old hunting dog. Now I'm in favor of a german-wired-haired-pointer rather than the german shorthair. We used to go through fields other hunters had gone through and walk out with multiple birds because Fargo would both track and sniff the air.
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