What Happens in Chicken Camp, Stays...
"Mum" is always the word from Chicken Camp, as I have learned from my more experienced brethren. So, the story of what we had for dinner one night was going to go with me to my grave...until I received word that I could relate the story for the benefit of those of the Chicken Hunting Fraternity.
Walking the line with my companions of the chase, always at the end of the phalanx so that I could observe all of the action, I was startled to see the guide's "pack" of dogs start a jackrabbit. The call "rabbit!!" went up, along with "shoot!!" from the guide. This reporter saw it all unfold. A quick draw artist from the center of the line was on the jack immediately and it tumbled and was pounced upon by the entire host of dogs. There developed much debate among the dogs about just who should get this prize, which seemed a bit frayed around the edges by the time it was brought to hand. (The dogs are basically there to find dead birds -- not an easy task in the dry conditions.) From my vantage, and my experience, it was a surprise to see a non-target species shot in front of -- and pretty close to -- "bird" dogs.
At the end of the walk there was a reckoning. The participants were soundly brought up on charges of endangerment to dogs, and wanton wasteful use of game. Much palaver ensued...and lasted through to dinner.
Along with my excellently prepared chicken breast at dinner that night, was a nugget of something -- browned on the outside, and pink within. The flavor was rich...the texture, well, let's just say as I chewed...and chewed...I thought that I might be able to blow a bubble, it was so much like the baseball card gum I remember from my childhood.
So, now you, too, know what transpired at Chicken Camp. Remember, what happens in Chicken Camp, must stay in Chicken Camp.
(A photo I forgot to post earlier. "Two Gun" Dean (ask him for his movie reference) took up with my dogs quickly, and they to him. Not much place to rest in the shade on an expanse that goes to the horizon without a tree in sight. Rill stopped to rest in her "Uncle Dean's" shadow on this very hot day. Always good to be with a "dog man" on a hunt...so now you might know who took the rabbit shooter to task...and demanded the jack be prepared and served for dinner.)
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"Doubtless the good Lord could have made a better game bird than bobwhite, and better country to hunt him in...but equally doubtless, he never did." -- Guy de la Valdene (from A Handful of Feathers )
"'I promise you,' he said, 'on my word of honor, I won't die on the opening of the bird season.'" -- Robert Ruark (from The Old Man and the Boy)
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