Lucky, Fawn, Martingale, and Stockman

Before ushering you to some weekend reading at the bottom of the post, some light personal news.

I had a perfect Saturday, collecting Lucky early in the afternoon to take him for a two hour tour of the wilderness. Just before we were going to return to the civilised world, a man turned up with a beautiful she-dog. Lucky had fun with black beauty Lola for another two hours, while I joined our new companion on his search for a ditched glider. Mysteriously, yet reassuringly, there was a note on the glider to the effect that the pilots had decided to land so as to have a drink in the pub of a nearby village.

There was one thing, however, that made me feel very sad. Lucky ferreted out a dead fawn, probably the victim of an unusually cold night yesterday. Once again, Lucky proved an excellent tracking dog and pointer with no interest in actually killing game. I observed carefully how he approached what turned out a dead fawn. Once again, Lucky remained perfectly obedient to me in the face of game alive or dead. He would be the ideal dog for a hunter who does not want his dog to interfere with the killing job or the prey.

However, the sight of the perished mini deer, so beautiful and cute (probably only a few days old), did make me feel really awful for a while.

Life goes on.

For a weekend read, try this on Martingale, and this by David Stockman.

PS

While Lucky was right with his prediction that my home team would suffer relegation from the first German soccer division this year, I am glad to report:

Hurrah, Borussia Dortmund, who have snatched the German soccer championship for the second consecutive year from Bayern München, look like defeating Bayern again decisively, in the final of the German Football Federation Cup. This being a most remarkable fifth consecutive win over Bayern, who in their turn have made it to the final of the European Champions League, where they face the English team of Chelsea.

Comments

[Eric Parks]

"to the effect that the pilots had decided to land so as to have a drink in the pub of a nearby village."

Too funny. I guess one is never too high up that he can't come down for a drink.