From introducing her to water (she was a natural) to live birds and a gun blast, we both were eager to get out on our first hunt. It was September, early goose season here in New York. Tessa was only ten months and until this point had only retrieved bumpers and live pigeons. I didn't know if she could handle a goose, how she would react to live birds; frankly I didn't know what to expect. So say it was rough was an understatement. It was quickly apparent what we needed to work on. But one thing was affirmed that day, Tessa was born to hunt. Her desire to get on the birds was obvious.
"Some things are better left unsaid. A comfortable silence whispered over the unspoken promise exchanged when your eyes first met. Together you share a grueling conviction. He rewards your dedication with a persistent plea for your companionship. If only he knew the feeling was mutual. On that dark, crisp morning you embark to fulfill his inherent purpose. Four earnest eyes scan the horizon with a concealed intensity when that Lone Duck interrupts the desolate sky. The crack of your gun unleashes a frantic hunger to retrieve his fallen prize. He returns, fully saturated and satisfied, with the fragrance of gun powder generously lingering. Together you celebrate a promise kept.
Your binding faith is one that most can’t comprehend. They neglect the depth of the instinctive understanding you have for each other. Like the exuberant validation you shared in the field with that first Lone Duck. It’s feelings like this that remind you they’re reserved for a select few. There’s no need to fill them with empty words. Some things are better left unsaid."