Benediction to a Season -- Last Shots

[mobirdhunter]

Nash Buckingham wrote of the importance of the first shot of the season, as it foreshadows what's to come. I've always valued the last shot, as it's what I must live with for all those days between seasons.

I must admit that I get a bit of "anxious passion" at season's end (Elaine calls it my end of season neurosis), and this year that passion seemed heightened. Receiving the "gift of cancer" (as my cancer survivor boss used to term it), and losing my oldest dog, Aspen, to knee surgery (and by extension, losing my best hunting partner, Elaine, who's serving as nurse to our recovering pup), only increased my desire to savor every moment of the remaining season.

Visits to the best covers on the best weather days, our Missouri season, a decent one by my current standards, provided some wonderful moments. These hunts would be modest affairs to most, but as I've aged, I've come to value the one good shot, the scintillating point, or the late Winter moon rise on the long ride home as much as any filled limit.

Here are a few of my memories, the benediction to our Missouri season:

1. We had two hunts -- Elaine, Rill, and I -- while Aspen was in hospital. Those two days offered some of the best weather late Winter Missouri can offer, and we visited and lingered on farms we saved for days like this.

2.-4. Some of our best home covers have good stands of warm season -- prairie grasses -- which are a nemesis to my shooting as I have the tendency to raise my head from the stock to "see over" the grass. Uncharacteristically, I shot well on these last hunts, and with Rill's incredible ability to "hunt dead." We found success in the Big Bluestem.

5.-7. One positive outcome from Aspen being laid up was that I could devote all my attention to Rill's development. After Rill and I lost Elaine to her nurse duties for Aspen, it was just the two of us. It was time well spent. I can't see not having more than one dog, but when a pup feels all your attention, good things usually happen. I was very pleased with Rill in this, her third season. She handled scarce and spooky late season Bobs like she'd been at it for many years.

8. Elaine and I have the tradition of toasting the final hunt of a season with some "special brew" she makes over the summer flavored with something scavenged from local field or forest. My toast this year (wild grape hooch) was to the past and present, my "family" (always including dogs), and to a PGCA friend also fighting cancer. All were with me in spirit.

9. The season's last gift, a wild Missouri Bob taken fairly from a point by Rill. A last shot to see me through to the next? I now plan for the future, but don't count on it. I think it makes time sweeter.