SWEET SIXTEEN

I drove onto the Tin Star today and found twin fawns perturbed that I had interrupted their play. After momentary pause, I watched their game of "tag" until they disappeared into a cedar hideout.

I then eased to my pond to find that a small hawk was as disappointed as I to see it has gone dry? The local oldtimers tell me that if I dig the silt out that has washed down the creek over the years, the pond has a spring that will feed it water the year round. Now if the oldtimers would just loan me the money to hire the bulldozer and operator?

A bit later, I flushed a pair of bobwhite quail. This was a special treat to me for two reasons. One is that I don't recall seeing quail actually on my land before. The other reason is because it reminded me of Grandaddy.

As a youngster, I clearly remember Grandaddy owning and training pointers (dogs) to hunt quail. I also know that he hunted with a Belgium made Browning Sweet Sixteen semiautomatic shotgun (later lost by Curtis at a hock shop) and toted his prized game in a canvas hunting vest (which I now have courtesy of Grandaddy). I can remember a time or two seeing Grandaddy and JRM cleaning quail in Gandaddy's back yard in WC so I have always assumed that they would on occasion hunt together.

There was never any doubt that Grandaddy loved to hunt quail and only stopped when he could no longer hold up to the walking required. Because of his passion for this small game bird, I pray that a pair or two will continuously nest on my land as a constant reminder of a special person in my life.