There is camouflage and then there is a white and liver colored Brittany running across a snow dusted field 6:30 in the morning. Though the moon provides some light, if it wasn’t for the crunching sound of Seamus running, I’d never know where he was. Of course I could put his bell on him, but the neighbors might think Santa was coming again and either put out the fire in the fireplace or get out their shotguns, hoping to avoid more Christmas bills.
Finally getting Up-North, the day begins with the exuberance of the little Brit pawing me to get dressed and head outdoors. Like “She Who Must Be Obeyed” says, “What Seamus wants, Seamus gets.”
The lake shows signs of freezing, but the edges are still open water. I hear around Cadillac, some adventurous types hare braving ice to get out on small lakes and claim fishing right now is great. I know they’re right, but having gone through the ice on Lake St Clair, I’ll wait until I see someone twice my weight on the ice.
This trip isn’t about ice fishing, it’s about getting in the last few days of grouse hunting of the season and Seamus knows it; he’s hanging around me like I’ve got bacon in my pocket. He’s doing everything he can to let mw know he’s ready.
Stay tuned.
TD