‘I had lost sight of Arturo for three or so minutes – irrespective of how far he ranges in the mountains, he always reports back eventually, or even merely checks in. Another two or so minutes had passed and still no sign. I decided to go off course and look down a shallow valley to my left – after all, the last bit of daylight left was starting to bid us farewell. And there I saw a white speck, amongst the most beautiful of Grand Creations. The far hillsides were draped in an impossible golden light, and there was this white speck in the algae like shadows. Motionless. Calm as a sentinel. I always know, or have a feeling that if he doesn’t at least check in he must be onto something. Eventually his sister and litter mate Aera came down from where she was working diligently and backed him maturely and without command, as if they had enrolled in their very own gundog agoge from infants. Military like. Yet without coercion. I sat in the grass and took some more photos, and just drank the moment in before walking in. As I got alongside Arturo, 14 beautiful birds erupted before him, and after a shot, the usual old cock bird erupted from almost under my feet as they always do, later than the majority of the covey. And for those that know the Grand Greywing Francolin, he doesn’t hang around for much time at all. As quickly as they erupted like mortars, they were gone, right to the bottom of the valley, and intact to surprise us another day. What a moment.
It’s these moments that we crazy gundog people live for. It’s what I also like to call, ‘The Art Of Life’.
Always chasing the horizon,
Chris.
The first photo is the initial sight I was greeted with, the second is with Aera backing.
