A journal entry from December, 1999. Murphy's Outing.

Derek invited me to join him at the Abandoned Dairy Farms area over at Pt. McKenzie. He had bought six pheasants and was going to work the dogs on them. He took Basil and Old Murphy. I think Rosie was outside having sex with a male (what else, dummy) from Oregon. Our first stop, after breakfast, of course, was at Ida Lake just along the Glenn Highway north of the "Y".
We dropped down to the old road below the parking lot and above the lake. Within a couple of minutes Basil had put up two ruffed grouse and Derek had made two very nice shots on them. Basil's butt had hit the deck with each flush and it stayed there until released for the retrieve. Nice! A bit later Basil captured a third ruff that was unable to fly for reasons unknown to us, so three birds in less than ten minutes. Pretty impressive.

We walked on around the lake and over to the bluff edge where springs kept the water open all year. We got up three mallards - had no shot. I think this ducky looking area needs to be hunted from the other side to get out of the big trees along the bluff side. On the trail along the bluff somebody sets snares - found two.

We went on to the farm area and saw the pheasants - gorgeous creatures. They were delivered by someone from the hunt club. Basil worked up and made good flushes on three of the birds. Two he got on the ground as they were apparently still stupid from the spinning and one we never found. Great fun! Basil did good work but Murphy had his moments also.

About halfway through the birds I went to the Expedition to get something to eat. I spoke to Murphy who was tied to a lead in the far back. His head was all flat in the curious way that Spaniels get when they know that they have transgressed some line of acceptable behaviour. His eyes were half shut and blinking rapidly which is another Spaniel way of confessing a sin. I looked more carefully and saw that he was surrounded by ruffed grouse feathers. I mentioned this to Derek. He checked the grouse cache which now, of course, contained only two grouse. He had some considerable words for Murphy and generally stomped around for ten minutes promising imminent demise of one Spaniel. I couldn't see his lips except for a thin and thought it best not to offer any philosophical thoughts, but when he mentioned that he had "a bit of a temper" it sent me into a laughing fit that seemed to be resented. Needless to say Murphy lost out on getting to hunt up a pheasant. He was amazing, nothing was left of the grouse except body feathers - everything else went down the gullet. I enjoyed the rest of the hunt immensely but I think my giggling got on Derek's nerves.

After the hunt, back at the car I spoke fondly to Murphy asking if he was still hungry. Then I noticed there was a torn paper sack at his feet. "Where the hell did he get that?" "Well shit," I said, "the little fart has eaten my peanut butter and jelly sandwich". Unfortunately, Derek heard this and not being sensitive to how important a young man's sandwich is to him he went into a very unseemly fit of laughter and Murphy was returned to favoured dog status. He drove off across the field to tell everyone about my sandwich - everybody seemed amused about my sandwich. Sometimes I just don't understand people. However, Derek was now in such a good mood that he shared his roast pork sandwiches with me - they're almost as good as peanut butter and jelly.

And that's the truth. Art

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