Also, we all had hunting dogs that ran and retrieved the downed birds. Our wonderful springer spaniel, Bill, got his limit far faster than any other hunter because he always found birds downed by other hunters and dutifully brought them to Dad. I would never, but never, run to pick up a bird.
Beautiful state, Montana. My mother moved there with her family in the 30's from North Dakota. She graduated from high school in Somers, not far from Kalispell. We visited there once when I was a kid around 1953 when my grandfather passed away. I'll always remember the beauty of the place.
Our diminutive Springer, Lady, was known to do the same thing. Once, when duck hunting, she jumped into the water, swam around some reeds and came back with a wounded duck. No one in the area had fired a shot. Same with winged pheasants that couldn't fly, but could still run and "spur".