JUST DAD, AN OLD HUNTING DOG AND ME

I awoke this morning to the sound of birds singing, and off in the distant I can hear the caw of a crow that is upset with some creature that has disturbed him. This is not just an ordinary morning. Something is calling me. I’m lying here not fully awake yet trying to figure out this unusual feeling I am experiencing. A gentle breeze is blowing through the open window of my bedroom. I recognize the familiar smell of the dogwood trees in bloom. They are releasing their fragrance and telling me that spring has come to the Ozark mountains of Missouri. I need to get up and enjoy this beautiful day God has provided for me. I was born and raised in this hilly country. My life was never boring, because there was always something exciting for a young boy like myself to do. We had numerous cattle ponds on the property that was stocked with catfish. I spent countless hours sitting on the bank fishing for them. I would lay my head back and close my eyes, fall asleep and dream about some simple problem that was so important to me at the time. My small world was full of positive things. This morning I want to go squirrel hunting and have to get out of bed because it’s a special day and I have a lot of walking and exploring to do. I know the old dog is ready to go. I can hear him moving around. The squirrels will be busy eating acorns to store up fat reserves for the coming winter. It will be a great time for a hunt. I slip out of bed very quietly, put my clothes on, get my gun and shells and slowly open the door. Low and behold there sits dad with a big grin. He has gotten up early. The call of the wild has given him the same idea as me. I love to hunt with him and listen to the tall tales he tells about experiences and events that happened during his lifetime. He is such an inspiration to people who know him. I feel like I’m ten feet tall when we are together. He is not only my dad but also my friend. This morning we head for the old Dutchman place. It’s about a mile from our house and a good place to hunt or just be by yourself. Dad and I are walking down the old road going real slow when we hear the dog bark. That sound I know very well. It is one of the greatest experiences you will ever have if you love to hunt the outdoors. It means that your dog has found a squirrel and has run it up a tree. You have to go slow now because when you get to where the dog is and make too much noise the squirrel will get scared and start jumping from tree to tree. When that happens, he will get away. We get to the spot and start looking, sure enough the squirrel is hiding on the opposite side of the tree. Dad looks over to me and says: Max! Go down the hill and shake a bush. So I wade through all the black berry vines, getting my face scratched, all the time looking out for poison ivy plants, because I’m very allergic to the oil they secrete, all the while trying to find a bush small enough to shake so the squirrel will move to dad’s side in order for him to get a shot. True to form as soon as the little animal sees me, he moves to the opposite side of the tree and dad takes a shot and gets him. Down he comes and lands right in the middle of that black berry patch. I feel like Briar Rabbit trying to retrieve him. To this very day when I sleep at night I can see my dad and still hear him saying: Max! Walk down the hill and shake a bush. He loved old dogs and always had one around him that someone had discarded. All of them lived their lives on our farm and never had to worry about being abandoned somewhere else. The Dutchman place was very unique because of all the different varieties of trees it had. There were black walnut, wild persimmon, sassafras and a abundance of oak trees. The wild animals loved it. There are deer, turkey, squirrel, fox and many other species too numerous to name. It was a hunters paradise. A lot of family history is associated with that piece of land and Dad loved to talk about it. It was originally owned by a German family and got its name The Dutchman Place. I know my brother was born when Dad and Mom lived there. I can remember my uncle living there and walking down over the hill to get water for him from the natural cave that is on the property. When I was growing up, I spent many days exploring the old cave, looking for an imaginary treasure I thought existed in its dark caverns, just to have something to do. The old pond by the road was a place to swim, kill water snakes, raise minnows and Gold Fish. There was also an abundance of Deer. In the fall of the year Dad would put me on a Big Rock that lies at the back of the property with a shotgun and told me to sit still so he could chase a Deer to me off the next hill to kill for our winters meat supply. I remember sitting on that rock when it was so cold I could hardly stand it. We usually got our Deer. Golly! I have got to get up. Dad is waiting. All at once I open my eyes and realize that I have been dreaming. I’m a long way from our farm and Dad had to leave years ago. Oh what a great experience I have just had. Too bad it’s not real. Our old hunting area probably is overgrown with vegetation now. Nature has taken it back. All those pleasant memories will forever exist deep in my heart of Just Dad an old Hunting Dog and me.

Max Youngblood