Looking Forward

November’s half gone
December’s just ahead
January looms not long beyond

So my excitement builds
For come January’s second week
I’ll be at Chinquapin for my annual retreat
To heaven on earth

Where wiregrass grows on ridges of sand
And quail whistle at dawn from all around
And a bird dog can search wide and yet be seen
Way off yonder

Where a handler’s gut tightens before Let ’em go
And his scout rides the flank sharp eyed and listening
And the judges follow at a steady pace
And me the reporter rides atop Cowboy’s truck

Where a handler’s or a scout’s cap
Is sure to be lifted ’fore long
Signaling a point
We all ride to for the big show

There stands a dog
High and tight
Nose and tail lifted
Awaiting the flight

And from my perch
Way up on the bench
I see the handler shuffle
To make the quail fly

Will they fly?
Will they run?
Can the dog pin them
On relocation?

These questions repeated
Every few minutes
Over the week
A show for our senses and memory banks

The Florida Championship
One of the best
My favorite over the rest
Why you ask?

Because of the birds
Because of the grounds
Because there’s no mud
And the weather is fine

Because every entry
Gets a fair chance
And a place — Loncala
To practice and adjust

But for me there is more
It’s the atmosphere
The attitude of the host
The one and only Mr. Ted