10-04-2013, 03:20 PM
About eight years ago I was waterfowl hunting on the Boise River with my black lab Lakota, in early October. It was midmorning and we were making our way upstream, jump shooting a narrow windy little section. We were angling across the river at an area that is very shallow. In the middle of the river, where it was about ankle deep, there was a large pile of leafy braches. We were within about 50 feet of the brush pile when a small critter quickly appeared and then dove off the backside. Having only a quick glance, I’m unsure if it was a river otter or a muskrat.
Lakota, whom had been walking at heel, suddenly took off and dove into the brush pile. It was so dense I was unable to see exactly what he was doing. After rummaging around for a minute he jumped out and came bounding back. To my surprise he had a whitefish in his mouth. As he dropped it at my feet, I could see a large semicircular chunk was bitten out of its midsection. He held his head high, quite proud of his retrieve.
Not exactly MY fishing story, but I don’t think Lakota would mind if I shared it for him.
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Lakota, whom had been walking at heel, suddenly took off and dove into the brush pile. It was so dense I was unable to see exactly what he was doing. After rummaging around for a minute he jumped out and came bounding back. To my surprise he had a whitefish in his mouth. As he dropped it at my feet, I could see a large semicircular chunk was bitten out of its midsection. He held his head high, quite proud of his retrieve.
Not exactly MY fishing story, but I don’t think Lakota would mind if I shared it for him.
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