Wednesday morning, this old male came in from behind Mike Fifer, luckily the wind was blowing his scent away from the dog. The dog was less than 10 steps away so he shied back into the brush until the female blew out just beyond the male. A couple of seconds later, the sound was too good and the male had to get back in the race. I barked the dogs to a stop and Mike made the killing shot. When I examined the dog's teeth, he had no canines in the bottom jaw and severely worn canines on top. One of the oldest males I have seen called in many years.
Ironically, we killed another the next morning nearly as old. We were hunting a ranch where there has been quite a bit of calling over the years. I promise you that they have heard it before.
Adios,
Gary

Looks like a fun day