Tag Archives: Gary Ruppel

Tracking Quail in Colorado

Gary, Yonder and our QuailThe flu hit me for the 4th December in a row. My son Jesse caught the virus first, followed by me, then my oldest son Ty. The symptoms include severe bronchial congestion, a mucus-filled nose and a high fever for multiple days. Ultimately, bed rest was the only antidote. My fever broke on Sunday afternoon, which gave me hope for a Monday hunt with my friend, Gary Ruppel. A week prior, we planned a quail hunt on Bob’s ranch, and I wanted to make it happen.

I needed the alarm to get me going at 4:30 am. A Mucinex pill as well as a few puffs from my Ventolin inhaler, had my lungs feeling manageable. We had some wet snow fall overnight, and that had turned the roads icy. I took my time on the drive to Gary’s house. An additional 90 minutes had us pulling into Wild Horse around 8 am.

During my big game hunts at the ranch over the fall, I witnessed 4 separate coveys of scaled quail on the land. The numbers in each covey are impressive; holding greater than 30 birds per family group. Moving into the property, I directed Gary to the cottonwood trees that are situated southwest of headquarters. We parked the truck and let Gary’s English Pointers out. Captain, Ashley and Yonder began to work out about 100 yards, then angle back into the stiff northwest wind. They cover a lot of ground in a very short period of time. As we neared a fallen tree, a large covey suddenly scattered in all different directions. The majority of the birds headed to the southwest so we took the dogs in that direction. Our collective pressure forced some the quail into, and around a lone cottonwood tree. Captain locked up on point when the bird’s sent became strongest. One quail jumped from a branch and flew with speed to the east. Just before he was out of range, I sent a single shot from my Weatherby 28 gauge in his direction. The scalie tumbled to the ground. Gary’s dogs were able to quickly locate the injured bird, allowing us to continue to hunt.

We jumped into the truck and headed back to headquarters. There is a lot of structure around the periphery of the compound, and quail were holding up in the thick cover. We decided to leave the dogs in the truck, and see if we could move the covey on our own. We walked to the most obvious spot: a large set of long, metal poles piled about three feet high.   As we approached the stack of iron, the quail started to emerge from their hiding spot. When we got to about 20 yards, they exploded in multiple directions. I missed on my first two easy shots, but managed to connect on the final bird. We let the dogs out so they could do their job. Captain, Ashley and Yonder got on the birds quickly, pointing and pinning the evading quail. It did not take us long to take one half a dozen birds.

We drove to the pasture just across the highway. Just past the gate there is a water tank, and most of the bulls were drinking from it. A windmill marks an area where I had witnessed a covey sheltered amongst a set of cement cylinders. Still 100 yards from the windmill, we stopped the truck to scout the area. Almost as soon as we had stopped the truck, a large covey began teaming out of their concrete protection. We watched them fly southwest, and land over the adjoining hill. We decided to get the dogs out and pursue them. As we crested the hill, Captain, Ashley and Yonder went on point, but the covey flushed wild. They moved north toward the dry creek, and touched down near some abandoned cars. Realizing the quail were taking shelter amongst the broken down automobiles, we headed in that direction. As we approached the vehicles, the dogs locked up quickly, and the action was immediate. Birds started soaring in all directions. I did not shoot as I hoped there were hidden birds that had yet to take flight. Many of the quail had landed in the field just off the creek. We called the dogs over, and directed them to hunt west; into the prevailing wind. Gary and I walked about 20 yards apart, waiting for signs that the quail were present. Similar to a flushing pheasant, individual scalies took flight when they felt pressure caused by our pursuit. Gary and I took these single birds when the shots presented themselves. We hunted our way back to the truck, but only witnessed a few additional quail taking flight too far from the barrels of our shotguns.

I will leave the Cage Ranch quail alone until next hunting season. Hopefully, we will enjoy additional moisture in Colorado that will sustain healthy broods next year.

My Video of a December 2014 Quail Hunt on the Cage Ranch

Friends

I have known legendary gun dog trainer, Gary Ruppel, for almost four years.  My beloved birddog, Pride, comes from his kennel.  When my family was considering adopting Pride in 2010, it was Gary who interviewed us to make certain it was a good match. The man is confident, opinionated, talented, kind, and loyal.  It takes time to earn Gary’s trust and friendship.  It takes even more time to earn the opportunity to hunt with him.

In mid-December, Gary and I were chatting on the telephone about our recent adventures.  I told him that Pride (now 10) was starting to slow down, and he and I should try to get into the field before the 2013 season ends.  I had never hunted with Gary, and I felt that it was finally the right time.  I have evolved into a veteran wingshooter who respects the quarry, the land, and my fellow hunters.  Gary agreed to go, and he suggested we head out after Christmas. 

Our plan, on December 30th, would be to hunt scaled quail on both private and public land outside of Hugo, Colorado.  I had never encountered a covey of quail in numerous upland trips throughout Colorado, Nebraska and Kansas.  To that point, I was excited to pursue the unfamiliar game bird.  Pride would team with Gary’s two English Pointers, Captain and Ashley, who are quail hunting machines. 

During several big game hunts over the last couple of years on the Cage Ranch, I had observed multiple coveys of scalies moving about the property.  With permission from Bob, we started our morning patrolling the different pastures where we thought birds would hold up.  It would be important to locate the game before the day warmed, and diluted the scent of the small animals.  We walked several areas where the cover is thick, and paralleled a food source.  The dogs worked each section of land thoroughly, but never showed any signs of enthusiasm.  As we slowly drove the ranch, Gary would get out of the truck to inspect the one day old snow blanketing parts of the land.  He scouted for the distinctive tracks that would indicate the presence of quail.  

Driving west, we approached a group of cottonwoods adjacent to the road.  As we neared the trees, I pointed to a three grey birds scampering away from our truck.  Gary exclaimed “scalies” and told me to get out.  As I hurried across the road, I loaded my Beretta, and Gary let out the dogs.  The pointers instantly winded the birds and gave chase.  I scanned the earth beneath the trees when suddenly two horned owls took off from their positions in the branches.  The movement startled the camouflaged quail who soared from their concealed location.  I shouldered my shotgun and fired at a single speedy bird that toppled to the ground.  I looked to my right and observed Captain and Ashley on point about fifty yards to the west of the trees.  Gary told me to make my way to him, as the covey was on the move.  Several birds exploded from the knee-high grass, and Gary shot two with his 20 gauge Winchester.  I remained in my position as Gary brought the dogs around.  We estimated that there were over twenty quail in the covey, and some had already fled to our north.  Moving with purpose and determination, Captain and Ashely located additional birds.  One quail jetted from my right at about thirty yards, and I shot him dead.  My execution prompted a sincere congratulations from Gary.  Admittedly, that felt pretty good.  Before continuing our hunt, Gary asked how many birds we had taken.  We counted seven and decided to stop shooting.  Captain and Ashley were still in hot pursuit, so we lowered our shotguns and admired their elegant skills.  We tried a few other areas before heading back home just after lunch. 

As a passionate and improving hunter, I appreciate the time Gary spends teaching me the nuances of the sport.   The sage advice has, and continues to impact my success in the field.  I look forward to spending more time with my friend.

Reviews

Product

Review

Sport-DOG Upland Hunter 1875

See http://www.huntfishgolfwork.com/unlucky-lucky/

HEVI-Shot   Pheasant

Number 4 shot is   overkill for quail.  Unfortunately, I   forgot to pack my number 6 shot.  Birds   went down, and went down hard.

Uplanders Warehouse

See http://www.huntfishgolfwork.com/shot/

Hankook Dynapro ATM

See http://www.huntfishgolfwork.com/shot/

SportDOG Nutrition

See http://www.huntfishgolfwork.com/shot/

Beretta A400 XPLR Light, 12 gauge

See http://www.huntfishgolfwork.com/my-2012-2013-season-ends/

Badlands Birdvest

See http://www.huntfishgolfwork.com/my-2012-2013-season-ends/

Garmin Oregon 450T GPS

&

Hunting GPS Maps

See http://www.huntfishgolfwork.com/bobs-day/

Ram 1500

See http://www.huntfishgolfwork.com/bobs-day/

Cabela’s Active Lite Jacket

See http://www.huntfishgolfwork.com/page/2/

Irish Setter Upland DSS King Toe Hunting Boots

See http://www.huntfishgolfwork.com/my-2012-2013-season-ends/

 

 

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Another Shot

Our initial trek to Eastern Colorado did not produce positive results.  Cover was thin and birds were scare.   We witnessed only a half a dozen birds (one rooster) situated in both walk-in-areas (WIA) and prime private land.  The hunting chat rooms underscored the challenges associated with the 2013-2014 upland season.  Some people found birds, but most struggled.  Not unlike past years, crowds diminish after the first couple of weeks.  To that point, I set up our men’s three day hunting trip for the third weekend of the season.

Four of us headed out to Northeast Colorado on Friday morning.  My favorite field has CRP that abuts freshly cut corn on three of the four sides.  As we neared what I would deem the most productive section of land, I split the group so we could begin to pinch the most dense cover.  Deep snow drifts made it difficult for the dogs to get to the bottom of the draw.  Otis and Pride ran quickly through the hundred yards of prime territory, and the hunters moved into advantageous positions.  Unfortunately, there was not a bird present.  I sent a quick text to a rancher friend of mine, and asked him if we could hunt his property.  He responded positively so we headed north to his house. 

While we were enjoying a vacation day, my friend was hard at work.  I asked him if he needed assistance.  He refused, acknowledging our desire to hunt, as well as his need to get an important project accomplished.  I convinced him that the hunting could wait, and that we would like to help.  The rancher explained that his cows needed to be moved to a new pasture.  We set up an electric fence, emptied and moved water troughs, and then we took the cows from one field to another.  Dave, Jeff, Bob and I actually had a good time completing our tasks.  The time was 3:15 pm, and we had about ninety minutes of hunting time available. 

Just to the north of the residence there is a bit of CRP that extends through a fifty yard tree line.  I told Dave and Jeff to enter the eastern part of the field quietly, and we would start our walk from the west.  As Bob and I drove by the tree row, we spotted two roosters walking into the tall grass.  Soon after piling out, Pride became immediately birdy and darted ahead of us.  As we approached the trees, a hen jumped in front of Jeff.  I yelled to be ready as there were at least two colored birds in our presence.  Pride took a sharp left and moved toward the fence line, so I shouldered my Beretta in hopes that the running bird would rise.  The roosters did eventually take flight; just sixty yards out of our range. 

I took the group into the adjacent CRP strips and formulated a plan.  Dave, Jeff and Otis would sneak to the east and begin to slowly walk to Bob and me.  As the four hunters came within twenty yards of one another I asked everyone to pause.  As we stood motionless, deciding on our next move, a rooster busted from the deep cover.  He flew west then banked a hard left moving toward the south.  Shots rang out as the mortally wounded bird glided seventy five yards before plummeting to earth.  Our dogs marked the downed bird and headed to fetch him.  The first bird of the trip was in the bag, and the last bit of the day’s sun settled in the west.

Day two was cold (nine degrees) and had us patrolling uncharted territory; northwest Nebraska.  Navigating the maps we eventually found the available CRP fields, but there was no sign of birds.  Four hours of hunting, and no opportunities had us heading back into town for some lunch.  We asked the locals for any recommendations, but mum was the word of the day.  As we were leaving, a friendly waitress suggested we try some areas just north of our position.  The first CRP field looked similar to the others, but had some unique structure abutting it.  We piled out quietly, and surrounded the area.  Otis darted up the center, obviously excited by something.  I started to run behind him as my instincts indicated potential action.   Without warning, a hen followed by a large number of pheasants, flushed from the tall grass.  I selected the first rooster and fired.  Unscathed he banked a hard left and moved away from my position.  Fortunately, a second rooster jumped up, and a single HEVI-Shot Pheasant shell downed him immediately.  Birds were still exploding from their position at the edge of the cover, but no rooster was close enough for another shot. 

The next WIA seemed to be untouched as the snow had no visible markings around it.   As we slowed down next to the field, a dozen birds exploded from the pit adjacent to the road.  The guys piled out of the trucks, and moved through the ditch in order to obtain a solid, legal shooting position.  More birds poured out, and headed away from the road.  I heard some shots but I stayed in the truck.  Despite the furious action, no pheasants were taken from the field.  We hunted multiple public areas the rest of the day, but were only able to push up a single hen. 

Day three’s plan would be to visit a few familiar Colorado fields, and hunt them until about ten am.  The first WIA is lined with rocky mountain junipers as well as plum trees.   The area had been hunted in previous days as there were boot tracks everywhere.  We marched the dogs into the wind, and bumped a coyote toward the end of the tree line.  Realizing that the predator would have moved any birds out of that area, we headed back to the trucks.  Our next field was minutes away, and had a few mounds of spilled corn around the contiguous road.  We managed to jump one hen on our walk west.  The wind was blowing from the south at twenty MPH, so we pointed the dogs into the wind and continued the hike.  Otis started to weave quickly on the field’s western edge.  I decided it was best to hasten my pace and keep up with him.  The fifty yard run culminated with two hens flying out of the corner of the field.  Otis’ young nose was on and he was not stopping.  For the first time on the trip, pheasant tracks marked the two-day old snow.  I watched Bob on my left as Pride was getting birdy in front of him.  Otis rocketed east then took a hard right, and moved a rooster out of his concealed position.  Bob and I fired at once, and the bird tumbled to the ground.  We decided to continue our hike toward the east; a mistake, given hindsight.  Almost immediately, Otis and Pride started to sprint after evading birds, and we attempted to keep up.  As we neared the center of the field we witnessed two sets of four pheasants fly across the road.  Admittedly, I make a tactical error.  I should have worked back to the road, and blocked for Jeff, Dave and Bob.  We piled into the trucks, and headed to our final field of the day.  Another forty five minute walk resulted in Pride taking me to the edge of a cornfield where he startled a hen hunkered down in the adjacent ditch.

After a big breakfast, we make our way back to Parker.  Despite the conditions, the second trip was really enjoyable.  I have great friends that stay positive and hunt hard.  While the bird sightings were rare, we managed to execute a few times when opportunities were presented.  There are eight weeks left in the season.  We will look for a significant weather change then head back east to give it another go.

Reviews

Product

Review

Sport-DOG   Upland Hunter 1875

http://www.huntfishgolfwork.com/unlucky-lucky/

HEVI-Shot   Pheasant

Six shots, three   pheasants down. I have not had to make an extremely long shot yet (40   yards+).  That said, I am confident of   the lethal, knockdown power of the shell.

Uplanders Warehouse

Visit the site   and get all you need in upland products.   

Hankook   Dynapro ATM

Another 670 miles   of tough driving in 2.5 days.  These   are great tires.

SportDOG Nutrition

SportDOG C9   nutrition keeps Pride in the field.  He   is 10 years old and continues to work all day, every day.  I am absolutely committed to these   supplements. 

Beretta A400 XPLR Light, 12 gauge

See http://www.huntfishgolfwork.com/my-2012-2013-season-ends/

Badlands Birdvest

See http://www.huntfishgolfwork.com/my-2012-2013-season-ends/

Garmin Oregon 450T GPS

 

Hunting GPS Maps

See http://www.huntfishgolfwork.com/bobs-day/

Ram 1500

See http://www.huntfishgolfwork.com/bobs-day/

Columbia Upland   Freezer Long Sleeve Shirt

See http://www.huntfishgolfwork.com/my-2012-2013-season-ends/

Columbia Full   Flight Chukar Pant

See http://www.huntfishgolfwork.com/my-2012-2013-season-ends/

Irish Setter   Upland DSS King Toe Hunting Boots

See http://www.huntfishgolfwork.com/my-2012-2013-season-ends/

 

 

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Unlucky but Lucky

November 9, 2013 was opening day of upland season in Colorado.  Admittedly, I started dreaming of this day when I closed the season in late January.  As fall approached, I began active preparation for the two and one half month season.  My lab, Pride, is ten years old and he needs to evolve into shape slowly.  We frequently toss a bumper in the early morning and late afternoon when the day is cool.  It is important that my gun dog is ready to endure long, hard days prowling public lands. 

My boys had basketball and soccer games on Saturday, so we decided to leave late in the afternoon in order to hunt on Sunday.  Opening weekend is busy, and the fields get crowded early.  In addition, the drought that has plagued the west over the last two years has caused a significant reduction in habitat that pheasants need in order to survive.  To that point, the numbers of birds across the region have seen a precipitous decline since 2011.  Greg and I decided to stay and hunt just across the border in Nebraska.  The walk-in-areas are limited, but we determined the crowds would not be a factor as their season was two weeks old. 

A rancher friend of mine told me that his family was going to attend the Pheasants Forever dinner in Holyoke and invited us to join them.  Pheasants Forever is an organization dedicated to the conservation of pheasants and other game birds.  Monies raised from these events support multiple initiatives including youth programs and habitat improvement.  These dinners are a great time to fraternize with other hunters who share the same passion for the outdoors.  Coincidentally, Greg spotted a man with whom he had gone dove hunting in September.  Mike and Art had hunted that day on private land, but they were only able to flush ten hens.  We asked if we could join them in the morning, and add three additional dogs to the pursuit.  They were open to the idea and we set a plan.

When Greg and I pulled into the motel we spoke to some hunters who were arriving from the field.  Along with harvesting four nice roosters, they filled three turkey tags.  Unfortunately, the hunters described difficult conditions, and emphasized the need to be efficient.  Sleep was non-existent as 5 am approached.  I had been posting questions on pheasant chat sites since 2:10 am, and I could not fall back asleep. 

At around 5:30 am we grabbed coffee, donuts and refueled the truck.  Greg and I would stop at the first walk in area, and let Pride do his business and take a run.  He actually got birdy when we approached the end of the CRP.  I hoped we would catch a couple of oblivious roosters prior to heading to feed in the corn fields.  Unfortunately, no birds showed themselves, so we loaded up in order to meet the rest of our crew.  Dave and Scott arrived with their dogs, Bogey and Otis.  Both dogs had been through extensive gun dog training with Gary Ruppel of Kiowa Creek Kennels.  The pups were ready to get on wild birds.

At about 7:30 am, we make our way into some dense CRP.  Spread out about one hundred and fifty yards wide, we worked the dogs into a quartering wind.  The group walked for hours, but a rooster never jumped.  Toward the end of the long trek, Pride and Bogey started to get excited.  The abutting country road was close, so an escaping bird would have to fly eventually.   Bogey went on point about 15 yards behind me, and a hen busted into the air.  While it was not the right gender, the action provided the dogs and hunters some much needed adrenaline.  Over the next couple of hours we managed to flush two additional hens. 

Hunting was hard and the day was getting warmer.  We made a joint decision to navigate the shelter belts on the property.  Blockers were deployed just inside the adjacent road in order to take down any evading roosters.  We collectively moved east with the four dogs.  I took Pride through the tree rows, but never saw him get hot.  We piled into Mike’s truck and moved to the next tree line.  The dogs worked through the dense foliage and they were obviously on a bird.  As we neared the edge, I heard Greg yell “rooster” and successive shots rang out.  With my gun pointed into the air I started to furiously look around.  I spotted the unscathed colored bird flying east, far out of my range. 

Mike and Art decided to head home as the early afternoon approached.  Dave, Greg, Scot and I made our way to a local restaurant to have some lunch.  The dogs needed a break, and we needed to refuel.  There are some public walk in areas just east of where we were staying in Nebraska.  I was told that the cover was thick and held birds.  It took about 35 minutes to make it to the field.  The temperature was in the 60s, and the wind was blowing at 15 mph from the west. Given the boundaries around the CRP, we had to walk with the breeze at our backs; a major disadvantage for the labs.  The cover was heavy, and difficult to maneuverer.   I bumped a nice eight point whitetail as I crested the first of two hills.   We covered every inch of the land but could not get a bird into the air.  Frustrated, Dave and Scott decided to head home.  Greg and I decided to hunt our way west with the hope that we would witness birds flying from corn to cover.  My Garmin GPS has every field that I have had success programmed into its database.  The setting sun provided enough light so that we could easily survey the land.  Unfortunately, we did not see one pheasant.  It was the first time over the last three years that I had not witnessed birds as the day closed.  Discouraged, we made our way to the highway and headed home. 

Upon immediate reflection, we realized that despite the absence of our quarry, we enjoyed our time in the field.  Spending time with friends and our dogs is always fun!

I will hunt hard over the coming months.  Hopefully, Pride and I will stumble across some birds.

Reviews – Prior upland product reviews can be found in archived articles

Product

Review

Sport-DOG Upland Hunter 1875

Awesome electronic dog collar.  All of the necessary features and functions. Easily programed for immediate effectiveness in the field.  There are great YouTube videos explaining each component of the collar.  Since my introduction to upland hunting, I have only used SportDOG collars.  My friends have recently invested in SportDOG collars for their new gundogs. We are all extremely satisfied with our SportDOG collars.

HEVI-Shot Pheasant

If the pheasant load is as effective as the duck load, I will ultimately be successful.  That said, I need to see a rooster in order to test my theory. 

Uplanders Warehouse

If you want to research and purchase the latest upland hunting equipment, visit this site.  Uplanders Warehouse offers a plethora of high end products at a competitive price. 

Hankook Dynapro ATM

So far so good.  I have put these tires through some tough terrain over the last year. No issue to date!  I purchased   the 10 ply tires.

SportDOG Nutrition  

I have used the SportDOG C9 nutrition products for almost one year.  My gundog and family dog have positively responded to the Hip/Joint, Hydration and Performance Vitamin products.  My dogs are old and these supplements have helped them adjust to their age.

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Pride

Last Wednesday, legendary gun dog trainer, Gary Ruppel, introduced Pride into our home. Pride is a handsome, seven year old, Grand River Labrador retriever who recently lost his owner. We had been considering a bird dog for months, but we could not decide on a puppy or a started dog. My wife and I were on edge as we did not know how our dog Bo would react to another male lab on his turf. After two hours of working the dogs through their paces, and with Gary’s professional recommendation, we decided to bring Pride into our home. As Gary left our house, Pride followed, looking distraught when the door closed and the truck pulled away. As Thursday unfolded, it became obvious that Pride was incredibly stressed by his new environment. We made a concerted effort to stay close to him, trying to provide comfort during this difficult transition. Pride was now a member of the Freedman family, and we quickly felt a real devotion to his wellbeing.

A few enjoyable bumper throwing sessions on Thursday, along with a ton of tail-wagging, lead us to believe that Pride might coming out of his funk. As 4 pm rolled around on Friday, I decided to cut out of work and take Pride on a short hunt. The conditions were perfect, 20 degrees, slight wind and no one in the field. Admittedly, I was pretty excited to watch Pride execute his craft. As we journeyed into the wind, I told Pride to “hunt-it-up”. He hesitated as we moved slowly down an old creek bed toward tall bulrushes that line the north part of the land. When I slowed, Pride actually sat by my side almost telling me that he was not ready to hunt. We walked the countryside for about 60 minutes with old Pride angling at my car the entire time. Eventually his eyes told me that he wanted to leave.

As we drove home, Gary and I talked about the experience, and Pride’s perceived resistance to hunt. He told me to take him out again and say nothing in the field. I must allow Pride to follow his instincts and do what he was trained to do. Gary critiqued my demeanor, attitude and intensity, emphasizing that patience and calmness would work best for the dog and for me.

We had a great Saturday throwing the bumper and playing in the yard. Pride was settling into his new family, and was acting like a different dog. At times he actually pranced around the house with his tail pointing up towards the sky. He seemed to appreciate the attention my 6 and 4 year old boys paid to him, taking every opportunity to nuzzle into them while gently licking them on the face.

On Sunday morning, my oldest son and I headed 30 miles east towards the property that we hunt. I was not overly anxious as I felt that this trip was just another day for Pride to further acclimate into his new situation. After opening the hatch on my car, Pride enthusiastically jumped out, but seemed hesitant to move into the field. Following Gary’s direction, I said nothing to him, hoping his instincts would eventually take over. Without any commands, Pride abruptly turned and moved eagerly into the open land. He began to trot toward a large brush pile about 150 yards from the car. He moved right then left with his nose guiding us in the right direction. As he approached the mound of sticks, he slowed to a determined crawl then stopped suddenly; shoulders low and tail erect. I had been in a steady jog but stopped to set up about ten feet behind him with my gun mounted. Maintaining complete focus, Pride moved into the cover flushing the bird who quickly flew low and to my right. Given the proximity to the dog, I could not take a safe shot at the chucker. When I could not see black, I fired once missing my mark then quickly regained my composure and fired again. The bird fell about 40 yards away, and Pride was there to retrieve it for me. It was our first bird together and we celebrated. Pride, Ty and I hunted for another 90 minutes. Pride pointed to and flushed six more birds. He walked the land with confidence and purpose. It was an amazing experience to watch the dog flawlessly execute the job he was tasked to do.

For 7 years, Pride was trained, raised and cherished by the Webber family and Gary Ruppel. We look forward to continuing to love and care for Pride.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6xEyeH2IlZ4

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