The Old Hunting Dog

I have a young hunting dog, a adolescent hunting dog, a middle age hunting dog and I have one very special old hunting dog. My old hunting dog gave me my middle age hunting dog and my adolescent hunting dog. Without him I wouldn’t have my young hunting dog. I have a whole circle of hunting dogs that I am very proud of which wouldn’t have been possible without the old hunting dog.

I took the circle of hunting dogs (all 4 of them) pheasant hunting today. It was a bitter-sweet day and very emotional one. I get more and more emotional each time I take that old hunting dog out hunting as I know there won’t be many hunting days in the future. I started out with Norman and Glory. I figured that Grandpa could teach Glory some of his hunting tricks. So we were off the old hunting dog, the young hunting dog and I. Glory was her typical puppy self and ran amuck smelling everything and running through the marsh like she didn’t have a care in the world. I remembered back in the day when Norman was like that and how I wish there was a fountain of youth for that guy. I remember when he used to be the leader and I was the follower, I would follow where ever his nose would take us and it would always take us to a pheasant. Today I was the leader and he was the follower. His legs aren’t what they used to be and he tires very quickly so he follows along in my footsteps as it is easier to let me blaze the trail. If he cuts a track he then will go off on that scent and work it like he did when he was young. I realized that it doesn’t matter who is the leader and who is the follower as long as we are both out in the field doing what we love the most. I would say hunting is what we love the most but I think I enjoy the time we spend together and it is a bonus if we actually get a bird. We didn’t get any birds today but it was still a wonderful day because I was spending it with my furry friends. I could see Norman was getting tired so we walked back to the truck of course I was crying as we walked back to the truck because I was taking my hunting buddy back to the truck because he was getting tired. I put him in the front of the truck and got the adolescent and the middle age dogs out and off we went again in hopes to find a bird. As we were walking off the old hunting dog was barking to go with and it broke my heart to leave him behind. How was I suppose to shoot a bird with tears streaming down my face? Well I didn’t have to worry about that as the gang worked and worked but not a bird to be found. Again it’s not about the hunt but about the time spent with the fur kids. I wouldn’t trade that for anything. So even know it was a sad day it was a good day because that old hunting dog  is still with me ready to go out again one day soon.

Grandpa & Glory.

The Old Hunting Dog.

Gpa teaching Glory how to cut a track.

The pheasants in here!

5 Replies to “The Old Hunting Dog”

  1. Yvonne Way

    Lovely story, lovely memories. I don’t have hunting stories, but have many memories of time spent, reminencing with my ”guys”! glad you didn’t end it with, when you returned to the truck, Norman had passed on”, as so many of those type off stories pop up about ”Fido’s” last hunt. I fall apart reading that stuff, as pretty much all off us chessie worshipers do. or for that matter, pretty much any dogs passing in their senior years. thanks for sharing your day with your ”fur kids”, many more are still ahead.

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