“Grouse Feathers”
If you are an upland hunter, you know there is something special – a bond, as it were, between your dog and yourself. Your walks through the woods on crisp autumn days are more than just time spent outside, but rather, your partner is an extension of your thoughts and in many ways, the pinnacle of your quest.
This is a true story about such a bond, that can’t be explained, nor, upon reflection, no explanation is sought.
I have a great friend, Scott Cataldi. Scott’s best friend is his GSP – Legend. Scott spent over 25 years in law enforcement and joined Kittery Trading Post where he took on the role of Assistant Manager of Shooting Sports years ago. Scott is “good people” – an avid upland hunter, wonderful with customers and co-workers alike and as importantly, he and Legend live the dream as painted by such notable authors – such as Burt Spiller.
By all accounts, Mr. Spiller passed away “sometime in the 70’s”. At the time of his passing, his death wasn’t particularly noted, and he certainly wasn’t any folk idol nor Pulitzer Prize awarded author. In fact, Mr. Spiller passed away and was buried in a place that for nearly forty years, has gone undiscovered.
Until a few days ago. It was discovered after a five year quest by Scott – and particularity, and correctly, the gravesite of Mr. Spiller was found by Scott’s pup Legend.
I’ll try to recount Scott’s story as accurately as possible. It’s long, and I’ve invited Scott to post in this thread – and fill in any missing gaps…
But briefly….
“..So I asked this old caretaker if he knew a fellow, long since deceased, Burton Spiller or where he might be buried. He told me he’d think about it and have to call me back. The gentleman must have been 70 or so and worked at that cemetery for about 30 years.
After getting home and about two hours later, my phone rings. It’s the old caretaker. He seems to remember an older local man who was an avid hunter, had dogs and he used to live somewhere locally. Was that the same guy I was after?
I confirmed that was probably him, but the old caretaker ran out of “memory juice” at that point – and said he’d try to find someone older from the area who just might know… The caretaker would have to call me back…
Two hours later again, my phone rings, and it’s the caretaker. He spoke to an even older gentleman who was responsible for several cemeteries, many of which are closed, unmarked or defunct. That gentleman thought he might know exactly where Mr. Spiller was interred. A closed cemetery you get to by driving a bit, walking a bit – and guessing a bit. Only some of the old locals know its whereabouts.
Saturday morning, I loaded Legend up, and off we went to try to find that elusive closed cemetery… And a bit later, we found it – ringed with chain-link fence, no trespassing signs – and no dogs allowed (I don’t think Burt would have approved much of those signs, but..).
So I called the town offices to no avail. I called the local police department. I called whoever I thought might answer. Finally, I got hold of some town official – and they told me – “Look, hop the fence and get your dog over that fence too. I’ve read Burt’s books and think, if he’s in there, he’d want it that way.”
So we started out. I don’t know how many headstones there are, but there are a lot. We walked slowly, almost at a hunting pace – just slow. And Legend would mimic my pace and my sense of anxiety.
After nearing the end of the search for Burt’s headstone or marker, my hope was just about gone, as we have covered most of the rows and so far – had come up empty handed – with only a few rows left.
With that, I noticed Legend. He was standing in front of a headstone – as if “on point”, he didn’t budge. I fumbled for my camera – I had no idea what he was pointing, but the hair started rising on my neck. And still, Legend hadn't so much as twitched a muscle. Legend knew he had found it, but I hadn’t realized it yet.
I walked over and joined Legend in front of that never-before discovered headstone, placed there in 1959, with Burton L. Spiller etched 1973, and I was speechless. Then something stranger still happened.
Legend is just over a year old, so he has two speeds – asleep or moving. There is no in between, no “middle speed”.
Legend simply laid down next to the headstone.
I think Burt would have been pleased.
Maybe Burt knew and will just enjoy that moment for an eternity.”
Thanks Scott….
Thanks Legend..
And mostly - Thank You, Mr. Spiller….
John
(The following photos and images are copyrighted and used with permission only.)
Legend:
12-21-2010, 11:48 AM
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