Earlier today I took Bugsy down to the local lake. I need to get him swimming again and bizarrely every time he's had a layoff from swimming he *forgets* how to swim. Sigh.
So there we are, me throwing his dokken duck and him going chest deep into the water, crying and whining because he can't reach the duck.
He always gets there eventually but goodness me he should be embarrassed to be such a studly dog whining and crying for his duck instead of just getting it.
Anyway that's how the adventure started.
After a few chilly and whiny retrieves I decided to walk the edge of the still low (but filling fast) lake.
There isn't much land left uncovered now but there is enough of an edge to walk so we did.
Him exploring, me calling him back regularly.
Then he found something.
Like a good pointing dog he stopped in his tracks and pointed.
I looked at him - he gave me a pleading look - and I called him.
Nope not coming, mom, pointing!
I keep walking - he is still a statue. I call more firmly, nope he is not budging.
He looks at me - irritated.
He begins to paw at the ground.
Whatever it is (I am thinking mole as I walk closer) it is under an eight inch ledge that is at the normal water line, so the top is scruffy grass and the wall of the ledge is mud.
He paws at it and looks at me like THERE IS SOMETHING HERE!
Yes he shouted with that look.
Finally I wander over, grab his collar and peak under the ledge.
Crap its a bird! An American Coot. All I can see is about an index card of gray feathers.
Presuming its dead I pull him away and off we go.
I mean why would a Coot be burrowed into mud??
Of course on the way back past there he was heading in.
The coot wasn't dead. Next thing I know the coot tries to fly off, Bugsy catches it and is strutting around with his catch.
I manage to get him to release it (so very thankful when it comes to birds he has a SOFT mouth) and it tries to fly off into the lake.
With a very large, very excited, "I remembered how to swim" (live bait gets him every time) mutt making a beeline for the poor coot.
Coots are terrible flyers so the thing was slapping the water as it tried to reach safety.
Fortunately it made it to safety and I prevented the silly Beast from going for a long swim that no doubt would have ended with hypothermia.
So lessons for this human.
Bugsy finds birds and points them.
He finds and kills furry things.
He doesn't bother with dead things. Dead things are smelly and don't run or fly. That isn't fun.
He will always forget he can swim but he remembers when there is something to chase. Then he can swim long distances.
So when my dog points something I shall try to remember that it will be alive and covered in feathers.
Here he is refusing to go back to the car - HIS coot is somewhere off in the distance