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Old Blog

Grow. Gather. Hunt. Cook.

when the dog says it's time to go …

I had that feeling after work like I had to get away...anywhere but the reality of the weekly grind. It's ludicrous what we put ourselves through, working in these crazy jobs for a living. It makes little sense to me sometimes. It makes more sense for me to be maintaining my shelter and organising my food...but that's the idealist in me. What a crazy notion. The next best thing was to grab the fly rod and Brady bag and head to the nearest water for some stick waving.


The girls and I jumped in the rattly old Jeep for a test fish at a local watering hole that a neighbouring farmer said may have trout in it.

It was crappy weather, but then it turned.


It came down there for a while.


Henry boy didn't like it. You could read it on his face.

And made it pretty clear by getting snug between my legs for some shelter (look closely)


He whimpered and complained. He is an 'English' pointer after all...and we do know they like a whinge ;-)


There were no trout in this lake. Well not today anyway.