Taken on the Wing
Half a dozen beaters pushed methodically through the grass, shouting and waving makeshift flags as they slowly moved slowly. In front of them three gun dogs did what they do best, following their noses on a scent only they could discern. A quarter mile to the west, six of us were spaced along the opening of a two-track trail, shotguns at the ready. I was stationed in the middle of the shooters, roughly 80 yards from the hunter on each side of me. The expectation was a thrill in itself, as I waited anxiously for the eruption of birds
