Charlie

Charlie was my one and only experience having a hunting dog. We got him from a farmer that lived Northwest of town. He loved to hunt; probably more than I did. We always spent every Sunday afternoon hunting quail and Charlie was always there with us. He had a teriffic nose. I once saw him go on point 100 yards away. It was a cool morning with a moist North wind. He worked his way up to the plum thicket and sure enough there was a large covey of quail there. I once brought my college roommate home with me to go hunting. Charlie went on point at a small clump of short grass. My roommate went up to it and said that no birds were there. When he bent down to examine it closer and covey of ten quail took flight. Charlie had a bad habit of biting into the birds. I don't think we ever cured him of that. Anytime we took the pickup anywhere he took after it thinking we were going hunting. We would have to drive around the block several times to tire him out. His pickup chasing finally got so bad we had to give him away to a guy that lived 5 or 6 miles out of town. We heard that he went over to the neighboring farm and killed several chickens. The guy we gave him to paid for the chickens but told the farmer he wouldn't again. I think that was the end of Charlie.