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- May 3, 2001
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I wrote this short essay about a magical morning I had with my dog on a Saturday morning a couple of weeks ago. My wife thought you might enjoy it, so ...
Yesterday was a magical morning on the marsh, the low lying clouds with their portent of rain let the ducks go in and out of visibility soundlessly and it was very difficult, often impossible, to follow them with your eye.
None of my friends had been able to come with us, so in the end it was just Jane, my dog, and me who sat beneath a Russian Olive tree and occasionally called to the ducks when we could see them. As the day grew lighter from the unseen sun large flocks of tweedy birds took to the sky. They appeared almost as bait fish in the sky as the flock turned simultaneously one direction and then another. It was fascinating to watch them and I was totally immersed in the experience when suddenly a large whirring noise startled both Jane and me. We turned to see what it was and saw that it was a large flock of tweedy birds that had done another one of their turns only a few yards behind us. The sound of thousands of wings changing directions all at the same time was really something to hear.
As we turned back around Jane laid her head on my lap and gazed at me with her big golden brown eyes as I scratched her head behind her ears. We sat quietly together for many minutes, each enjoying the morning as it developed around us. It was while I was telling her what a good dog she was that I noticed a small pinpoint reflection on the water out of the corner of my eye that kept getting larger and larger. Soon I could see it was a lovely large mallard.
I actually laughed out loud when he landed in the decoys which sent it scurrying skywards. Jane soon brought her first retrieve of the day back to my hand, and we went back to our reverie which had been so rudely interrupted.
It really was an incredible morning, easy shots were taken, easy shots were not taken; sometimes it just didn't seem worthwhile to quit scratching my dog's ears just to take a shot. The ducks came, silently appearing from out of the clouds, sometimes to leave and sometimes to stay.
Eventually we had been interrupted enough that we had our limit, so we just sat for a while more and then picked up our decoys and came home. After all there were football games to watch and chicken soup to make for the sick wife of a good friend.
It has been many years and two dogs ago since I had a day like this.
It was time.
Yesterday was a magical morning on the marsh, the low lying clouds with their portent of rain let the ducks go in and out of visibility soundlessly and it was very difficult, often impossible, to follow them with your eye.
None of my friends had been able to come with us, so in the end it was just Jane, my dog, and me who sat beneath a Russian Olive tree and occasionally called to the ducks when we could see them. As the day grew lighter from the unseen sun large flocks of tweedy birds took to the sky. They appeared almost as bait fish in the sky as the flock turned simultaneously one direction and then another. It was fascinating to watch them and I was totally immersed in the experience when suddenly a large whirring noise startled both Jane and me. We turned to see what it was and saw that it was a large flock of tweedy birds that had done another one of their turns only a few yards behind us. The sound of thousands of wings changing directions all at the same time was really something to hear.
As we turned back around Jane laid her head on my lap and gazed at me with her big golden brown eyes as I scratched her head behind her ears. We sat quietly together for many minutes, each enjoying the morning as it developed around us. It was while I was telling her what a good dog she was that I noticed a small pinpoint reflection on the water out of the corner of my eye that kept getting larger and larger. Soon I could see it was a lovely large mallard.
I actually laughed out loud when he landed in the decoys which sent it scurrying skywards. Jane soon brought her first retrieve of the day back to my hand, and we went back to our reverie which had been so rudely interrupted.
It really was an incredible morning, easy shots were taken, easy shots were not taken; sometimes it just didn't seem worthwhile to quit scratching my dog's ears just to take a shot. The ducks came, silently appearing from out of the clouds, sometimes to leave and sometimes to stay.
Eventually we had been interrupted enough that we had our limit, so we just sat for a while more and then picked up our decoys and came home. After all there were football games to watch and chicken soup to make for the sick wife of a good friend.
It has been many years and two dogs ago since I had a day like this.
It was time.
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