In years past I would have been disappointed in traveling 400 miles to hunt for two days and only shoot two birds. Especially in the sandhills of Nebraska. I've taken so many different dual limits there over the years. But then this isn't a dual limit year. And neither was last year.

We got Chaos's first ever prairie chicken the day before and the first bird we flushed this day was another chicken. A long way away chicken that I wouldn't have shot if it had flushed at my feet. I've done enough chicken damage over the years to be comfortable letting a few go in lean times. I know a guy can't stockpile birds for the future but I've never heard that a little extra seed ever hurt their chances.

Finally, after a wild three-bird flush of sharptails, Chaos flushed a single out of a swale near a stock tank. I can confidently credit Chaos with yesterday's bird and the one I'm about to shoot even though Bo was along for the walk, because that's all Bo was up for. It was terribly hot for a black Lab so she spent most of each morning healing along side me without a command.

The sharptail was an easy right left crosser at about 20 yards and fell decisively like we wish every bird did. Bo did get to the dead bird a step ahead of Chaos but I can't hold that against the girl with the short legs. After accepting the bird from Bo, I did a better job of hiding it in some tall weeds than it did falling, and sent Chaos after it. She was happy and proud and I was again, without my camera.