Pennsylvania Game News - March 2009 - 15

inable to me, I now knew it had to be done. As such things should be done in privacy, and with some respect, I removed it from the hall tree and laid it on a table near my chair to clean it out before burying it in the backyard. At first, things went along uneventful; I found the usual — a few pheasant tail feathers, some grouse breast feathers, a couple of candy bar wrappers and an assortment of leaves and twigs in the rear game pocket. From one of the front pockets I removed an assortment of 16-gauge and 20-gauge shells from their loops, and then unexpectedly found, tucked into one of the loops, my Barlow bone handled knife, which I thought had been lost. The discovery of the knife took me back to the fall morning on a ridge in Indiana County, where I had searched for it for hours, on hands and knees, thinking I had dropped it in a particularly thick patch of young beech trees after dressing out a grouse. That old knife meant a lot to me. It had been my Uncle Charlie’s, and he had given it to me the morning I shot my first grouse. Next I found my old dog whistle. I leaned back in my rocker, lit my pipe and began drifting back in time to that amazing day that bonded the golden retriever, Brandy, and me forever. It had been two days before the opening of grouse season when Brandy had completed her training at Poorman’s Kennels in Ligonier. That opening morning at 5:30, we were in my truck driving north on Route 119, filled with anticipation of what the day may bring. Brandy, who was doing the best she could to contain her excitement, was lying on the seat next to me with her head on my lap, snoring. Prior to his passing my grandfather gave me his favorite grouse gun, a sweet little Browning Citori Lightning 20-gauge over/ under with an English stock. Having a fine shotgun and good bird dog is every bird hunter’s dream and mine was no different. As I drove I prayed that our trip together MARCH 2009 that day would be something special, one that would bond the two of us together. At that point I had no idea how special the day would turn out to be for both of us. I had chosen a spot near Yellow Creek Park, because I was familiar with the lay of the land and I knew it held a good population of grouse. The deer season prior I had found a hollow that had a small stream running through it, bordered on one side by hemlock and on the other grapevines. The spot was isolated and I felt reasonably certain that Brandy and I would have the place to ourselves, a plus being it was her first time out. I was pleasantly surprised when we arrived to find no other vehicles in the vicinity. There had been a heavy frost in the area during the night, and it was beginning to feel like hunting season to me. It was starting to get daylight as I slipped Brandy’s work collar on her and began the trek toward the hollow. She put her nose to the ground the moment we left the truck and was acting birdy. I was impressed, because unlike the playful pup I had taken to be trained, she was now displaying traits of a seasoned retriever whose attention was firmly centered on the task at hand. Her trainer, Joe McDowell, had told me I would be surprised in the difference in her. That daybreak was the kind of morning grouse hunters dream about. The light breezes were crisp and cold. The forest floor was littered with brightly colored leaves that crunched softly as we passed over them. The soft rays of the sun were only beginning to find their way through the tall hardwood trees, causing small pockets of silvery fog to rise from the spots it was warming. As we neared the hollow I slid two yellow shells into the Browning, and then stood listening to the sounds of 15

Pennsylvania Game News - March 2009

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