Rich Anderson
05-10-2016, 06:14 PM
Steve was a hunter all his life, self taught you could say it was in his blood. Most of all he was a bird hunter and October began calling about January each year. Bird dogs were always a way of life for Steve and he couldn't remember not having one and he had been blessed with some very good ones throughout the years.
As retirement loomed on the horizon he poured over hunting destinations like an eight year old kid waiting for Christmas. There were Pheasants to hunt in South Dakota, Quail in Kansas and Texas, Hungarian Partridge and Prairie Chickens in the grasslands of Montana. Most of all there were Grouse and Woodcock to hunt from Main to Louisiana. He dreamed of being able to chase the migration for an entire season.
In the midst of this planning tragedy struck when his beloved shorthair was killed by a passing vehicle. This put Steve into a deep depression that was bad enough it gave his wife cause for concern. He didn't want another dog, Belle just couldn't be replaced. He rationalized that he was getting to old to chase birds anyway and in his heart of hearts he just didn't want to experience that loss again. They say time heals all wounds but a year passed without a dog and the guns remained in the safe unused and that year turned into two.
One spring day he was at the local sporting goods store buying some reloading supplies for a rifle he probably wouldn't shoot anyway and there was a gentleman there in the parking lot with a litter of shorthair puppies. Steve saw them as he entered the store but dismissed the urge to look at them. He did his shopping but the litter stuck in his head all the while he was in the store. As he walked back to his truck he thought one look won't hurt anything.
There were seven of them all cute little balls of energy. Four males and three females just eight weeks old all needing new homes. The breeder was a man named Sam who had both parents to the litter. Further discussion revealed that Sam was a lifelong Grouse hunter who raised a litter of puppies just once a year to help out with his hunting expenses. The blood lines were exceptional the parents laid back but attentive. Steve resisted picking one up but found it hard to do so. "How much?" he asked. "$500 for a male and $600 for the females" came the reply. Sam had done this before and could see that Steve's heart strings were being tugged so he let the pups run around a while. Steve still resisted the temptation of picking one up. Sam was well prepared and produced a fan of tail feathers from one of last years grouse. He tossed it on the ground and all the pups went after it. Steve was impressed with the litter but told Sam he didn't have the money for a dog at that time. Sam gave him a card and thanked him for looking.
A week or so went by and Steve just couldn't get those pups out of his head. He figured they would all be gone by now so calling wouldn't do any harm and it would ease his mind that well he at least tried. "Hello this is On Point Kennels how may I help you?" " Hi I looked at the litter a week or so ago my name is Steve". "yes Sam replied I remember you". "Do you still have any pups left?" "Only two a male and a female but someone is coming by this afternoon around 4 to look at them". Steve's stomach turned with an excitement he hadn't felt in over two years. "I have some time available if it would be all right can I stop by and see what's left"? "Sure come on over" replied Sam. On the way Steve stopped by the bank and with drew six hundred dollars just in case.
Steve and Sam talked about dogs, bird hunting and the pain of loss for hours. It was as if they were kindred spirits destined to meet each other. Steve left with the female and on the way home she curled up next to him and he scratched her ears and thought about what he would tell his wife.
Steve's wife Sarah had grown accustomed to not having a dog around especially a puppy. There was new carpet in the living room and puppies chewed and did awful things to the furniture not to mention shoes. After the initial shock of seeing the new addition wore off she saw a different mood in Steve, he wasn't so glum and sullen he smiled and was happy. Maybe this puppy is just the answer she thought. They named her Angel because maybe just maybe she was sent from heaven especially for Steve,
Angel and Steve were inseparable and as the years passed Angel developed into a first class bird dog. The hunts dreamed of years ago began to take shape and when Angel was three she made her first trip to South Dakota. Those wild roosters taught her a thing or two but she learned quickly and by five she was holding all the cards. It was as if she could think like a bird and intuitively knew what it was going to do before it did.
They both lived for October and when trout season was in Steve and Angel went fishing but mostly it was pre season Grouse scouting. Steve was completely retired now and had sold his business so his dream of chasing the Woodcock migration was in full swing. He and Angel traveled together from Main all the way to Louisiana and had the time of their lives. Always the planner Steve made reservations at a Quail plantation for three days on the return trip. Life was great.
As they entered their 15th year together both had slowed down some. Steve was crowding 80 and didn't get around as well even with a new hip and hundreds of thousands of miles had left Angel with some arthritis in her joints and a small cataract in her left eye. Every October still found them in Grouse camp but Sarah insisted on a call every evening just to see how the day went. Steve knew she was checking on him and Angel and that she really didn't care how the hunting had gone.
Two days had passed without a call and Sarah was worried. She called the neighbor and asked him to check on Steve. When he pulled in the drive Steve's truck was there and the light was on. A gentle knock on the door resulted in no answer. The TV was on, the door open so John let himself in. Steve was in the recliner with Angel curled up in his lap. There was an empty glass on the floor and a cigar butt in the ash tray. Both had gone on one last hunt together, the way it should be.
As retirement loomed on the horizon he poured over hunting destinations like an eight year old kid waiting for Christmas. There were Pheasants to hunt in South Dakota, Quail in Kansas and Texas, Hungarian Partridge and Prairie Chickens in the grasslands of Montana. Most of all there were Grouse and Woodcock to hunt from Main to Louisiana. He dreamed of being able to chase the migration for an entire season.
In the midst of this planning tragedy struck when his beloved shorthair was killed by a passing vehicle. This put Steve into a deep depression that was bad enough it gave his wife cause for concern. He didn't want another dog, Belle just couldn't be replaced. He rationalized that he was getting to old to chase birds anyway and in his heart of hearts he just didn't want to experience that loss again. They say time heals all wounds but a year passed without a dog and the guns remained in the safe unused and that year turned into two.
One spring day he was at the local sporting goods store buying some reloading supplies for a rifle he probably wouldn't shoot anyway and there was a gentleman there in the parking lot with a litter of shorthair puppies. Steve saw them as he entered the store but dismissed the urge to look at them. He did his shopping but the litter stuck in his head all the while he was in the store. As he walked back to his truck he thought one look won't hurt anything.
There were seven of them all cute little balls of energy. Four males and three females just eight weeks old all needing new homes. The breeder was a man named Sam who had both parents to the litter. Further discussion revealed that Sam was a lifelong Grouse hunter who raised a litter of puppies just once a year to help out with his hunting expenses. The blood lines were exceptional the parents laid back but attentive. Steve resisted picking one up but found it hard to do so. "How much?" he asked. "$500 for a male and $600 for the females" came the reply. Sam had done this before and could see that Steve's heart strings were being tugged so he let the pups run around a while. Steve still resisted the temptation of picking one up. Sam was well prepared and produced a fan of tail feathers from one of last years grouse. He tossed it on the ground and all the pups went after it. Steve was impressed with the litter but told Sam he didn't have the money for a dog at that time. Sam gave him a card and thanked him for looking.
A week or so went by and Steve just couldn't get those pups out of his head. He figured they would all be gone by now so calling wouldn't do any harm and it would ease his mind that well he at least tried. "Hello this is On Point Kennels how may I help you?" " Hi I looked at the litter a week or so ago my name is Steve". "yes Sam replied I remember you". "Do you still have any pups left?" "Only two a male and a female but someone is coming by this afternoon around 4 to look at them". Steve's stomach turned with an excitement he hadn't felt in over two years. "I have some time available if it would be all right can I stop by and see what's left"? "Sure come on over" replied Sam. On the way Steve stopped by the bank and with drew six hundred dollars just in case.
Steve and Sam talked about dogs, bird hunting and the pain of loss for hours. It was as if they were kindred spirits destined to meet each other. Steve left with the female and on the way home she curled up next to him and he scratched her ears and thought about what he would tell his wife.
Steve's wife Sarah had grown accustomed to not having a dog around especially a puppy. There was new carpet in the living room and puppies chewed and did awful things to the furniture not to mention shoes. After the initial shock of seeing the new addition wore off she saw a different mood in Steve, he wasn't so glum and sullen he smiled and was happy. Maybe this puppy is just the answer she thought. They named her Angel because maybe just maybe she was sent from heaven especially for Steve,
Angel and Steve were inseparable and as the years passed Angel developed into a first class bird dog. The hunts dreamed of years ago began to take shape and when Angel was three she made her first trip to South Dakota. Those wild roosters taught her a thing or two but she learned quickly and by five she was holding all the cards. It was as if she could think like a bird and intuitively knew what it was going to do before it did.
They both lived for October and when trout season was in Steve and Angel went fishing but mostly it was pre season Grouse scouting. Steve was completely retired now and had sold his business so his dream of chasing the Woodcock migration was in full swing. He and Angel traveled together from Main all the way to Louisiana and had the time of their lives. Always the planner Steve made reservations at a Quail plantation for three days on the return trip. Life was great.
As they entered their 15th year together both had slowed down some. Steve was crowding 80 and didn't get around as well even with a new hip and hundreds of thousands of miles had left Angel with some arthritis in her joints and a small cataract in her left eye. Every October still found them in Grouse camp but Sarah insisted on a call every evening just to see how the day went. Steve knew she was checking on him and Angel and that she really didn't care how the hunting had gone.
Two days had passed without a call and Sarah was worried. She called the neighbor and asked him to check on Steve. When he pulled in the drive Steve's truck was there and the light was on. A gentle knock on the door resulted in no answer. The TV was on, the door open so John let himself in. Steve was in the recliner with Angel curled up in his lap. There was an empty glass on the floor and a cigar butt in the ash tray. Both had gone on one last hunt together, the way it should be.