I came across this picture of my Brit, Cap, from NM 4 years ago. We were hunting Gambel’s Quail around an old corral. The initial cast was away from the corral, up in the hills. The whole time, Cap kept slowly working toward the corral, and I would call him back. Eventually, I told my partner I was going to swing down that way. I saw probably 100 quail in several coveys over the next hour. Cap knew where they were. The issue here is that there was plenty of old, low-slung barbed wire in the area. His tracking, pointing, and retrieving took him over and under a lot of it. I did not see when he got hung up, but when I saw his bloody tracks, I called him to me. He had a pretty good slash on his left front leg. Some blood stop, antiseptic, freshwater cleanse, and a staple gun took care of it. He didn't like it, but he took the rest of the day off. He looks like an old boxer after a hard-fought fight. I wish I was as tough as this guy is.
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