The ghosts of hunting seasons past.

[OntarioHunter]

The other evening walking back to the Jimmy in the moonlight with the dogs I was reminded of a similar night several years ago. Back then on that same road at the same spot I found myself annoyed that my Lab Opal kept bumping into my right leg. She and Fr Britt Puppy (aka Coral) were always out front. Old Lab Pearl would usually dog my steps (pun intended) when she'd had enough, but what's with Opal? "Knock it off!" Another nudge at my leg. What the ... Then I looked down. She had a sharpie she found that was frozen stiff. Someone shot and lost it the day before. "Dad, take this damn thing!"

I have shot hundreds of pheasants on that property over the last ten years with four great dogs, two of which are now gone (Opal and Pearl). Sometimes I feel like they're still out there with me. I hope so. I guess in some respects they always will be ... because they live on in my mind. It is a tragedy to think that when I die, those wonderful dogs will be gone forever ... because I hunt alone. Hunting alone is very special but also ultimately so sad. Learn to share ... and you will live on. Becoming someone's ghost is the greatest achievement in life.