The gleaming retriever sat quivering with expectancy as the shotguns shattered the stillness of the misty morning in Washington's rainswept Snoqualmie River valley. The first pheasant dropped behind the dog. The second, whirring off into the mist, wheeled at the shot and fell into the brush to one side. The third was brought down just across the river. Then the handler issued a sharp command: "Fetch!"
Off like an uncoiling spring, the dog dashed for the bird that fell behind him. Gingerly he nuzzled it, rolling the bird a bit so that he could pick it up without crushing it, raced back...
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