And The Twain Did Meet

New York grousing with a premier dog trainer

The sound of the dog’s bell was familiar enough. As was the sudden silence when the handsome pointer stopped and the rush of wings that followed a moment later.
A glimpse of feathers breaking for the tangled limbs of a ragged apple tree brought a scarred gunstock to my shoulder and sent the gun’s barrels swinging just as that sight had done thousands of times before. And yet, even with an action that long ago became instinctive, and with the compression of all senses into a single focal point that was the bird’s flight, the accent of my companion’s voice calling, “Bird!” from deep in the thicket was jolting to my Southern ear.
    It may have been a jolt I needed, for just as the grouse seemed destined to reach cover, the gun barrels caught up with its trajectory and kept moving as my finger tripped the front trigger’s... Read More »

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