At the End of a Hunt

As is typical with my pointer, Karl’s day was a mixed bag of brilliance and embarrassment. There was no denying his passion for the task at hand; his points (once he settled down) were more intense and steady than I’ve ever seen from him and his energy seemed boundless. As further testament to the dog’s desire he at one point began to run after a Cessna he saw flying south of us—thought for sure it was the “catch of the day”.

So now I sit in reflection and evaluate the hunt (as I typically do) thusly: how did the dogs do? And it troubles me that that question is spiritually askew. But like it or not, I tend to live vicariously through my dogs while in the field. I want my companions to be impressed with their performance, and I want them to tell me what great hunters my dogs are. If they do I feel good about the day; if they don’t, I assume that the dogs’ erratic performance (some degree of which is almost guaranteed) has somehow diminished the quality of their experience afield. And I then flagellate myself for not being a better trainer. But even in these circumstances when I’m apologizing for the flushed-out-of-range birds and the busted points I’m secretly cherishing the time I’ve spent with my 4-legged hunting companions without regard to their mistakes or my friends’ evaluations. I’ve had the pleasure, no, the privilege, of sharing with them a moment of sheer bliss; they with noses full of intoxicating bird scent and me, well, just watching them enjoy themselves. Henceforth, that will be enough!