ies from my youth I hold onto. I'll never forget the first time I hunted behind pointing dogs. I had several seasons of walking fields for pheasants under my belt and was thoroughly hooked, but none in our hunting party owned a hunting dog. When one of my dad's coworkers invited us on a quail hunt near Protection, I was excited. But what made my excitement nearly uncontainable was the fact that several of the hunters were bringing dogs -- a pointer and a setter. I couldn't wait. It was a great day but what I remember most was the first point in the first walk. Just after sunrise, we were walking a little homestead site. The pointer went on a rock-solid point. We all approached slowly, and I was literally shaking with anticipation. But after kicking and walking through the patch of grass, nothing flushed. I was disappointed. However the dog stayed on point. A closer look revealed a patch of quail skin and feathers half the size of a dollar bill. It was probably from a bird killed by a hawk or other predator earlier that morning, but the fact that the dog scented it and pointed it fascinated me. I have been fascinated and in love with bird dogs ever since. And I've never lost that boy-like anticipation I feel while walking up to a dog on point. Just writing about it now, I can visualize the intensity in the dog's eyes, every muscle taut, waiting for the explosion of grass and feathers. I'd say that one hunt when I was 13 had a profound impact on me.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Remembering
It's funny some of the memories from my youth I hold onto. I'll never forget the first time I hunted behind pointing dogs. I had several seasons of walking fields for pheasants under my belt and was thoroughly hooked, but none in our hunting party owned a hunting dog. When one of my dad's coworkers invited us on a quail hunt near Protection, I was excited. But what made my excitement nearly uncontainable was the fact that several of the hunters were bringing dogs -- a pointer and a setter. I couldn't wait. It was a great day but what I remember most was the first point in the first walk. Just after sunrise, we were walking a little homestead site. The pointer went on a rock-solid point. We all approached slowly, and I was literally shaking with anticipation. But after kicking and walking through the patch of grass, nothing flushed. I was disappointed. However the dog stayed on point. A closer look revealed a patch of quail skin and feathers half the size of a dollar bill. It was probably from a bird killed by a hawk or other predator earlier that morning, but the fact that the dog scented it and pointed it fascinated me. I have been fascinated and in love with bird dogs ever since. And I've never lost that boy-like anticipation I feel while walking up to a dog on point. Just writing about it now, I can visualize the intensity in the dog's eyes, every muscle taut, waiting for the explosion of grass and feathers. I'd say that one hunt when I was 13 had a profound impact on me.
ies from my youth I hold onto. I'll never forget the first time I hunted behind pointing dogs. I had several seasons of walking fields for pheasants under my belt and was thoroughly hooked, but none in our hunting party owned a hunting dog. When one of my dad's coworkers invited us on a quail hunt near Protection, I was excited. But what made my excitement nearly uncontainable was the fact that several of the hunters were bringing dogs -- a pointer and a setter. I couldn't wait. It was a great day but what I remember most was the first point in the first walk. Just after sunrise, we were walking a little homestead site. The pointer went on a rock-solid point. We all approached slowly, and I was literally shaking with anticipation. But after kicking and walking through the patch of grass, nothing flushed. I was disappointed. However the dog stayed on point. A closer look revealed a patch of quail skin and feathers half the size of a dollar bill. It was probably from a bird killed by a hawk or other predator earlier that morning, but the fact that the dog scented it and pointed it fascinated me. I have been fascinated and in love with bird dogs ever since. And I've never lost that boy-like anticipation I feel while walking up to a dog on point. Just writing about it now, I can visualize the intensity in the dog's eyes, every muscle taut, waiting for the explosion of grass and feathers. I'd say that one hunt when I was 13 had a profound impact on me.
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My dad has a shoe box full of pictures, including dozens of dogs on various quail and pheasant hunts. If he were alive, he could tell you the name of the dog on point, the one honoring the point, who was hunting that day, where they were at at that point in time - to the nearest fence post, how many birds were shot that day, etc, etc, for each photo. Great times.
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