Special Stage

Among the pleasures of age
Remembering places we love
Visiting them in mind’s eye
Seeing old friends there as well

Many such places lie
In my memory bank
Ready to revisit
By simply closing my eyes

I can see Course Two at Chinquapin
With handlers and horses waiting
At the foot of Buck’s Hill
To hear a judge say let ‘em go

See two pointers sprint
Up that hill and beyond
Into the wire-grass swales and ridges
Studded with wide set pines

See a handler raise an arm
To point out his dog far ahead
Crossing the front toward the turn
South toward Route 247

See two scouts
One on the ridge on the left
One dragging the edge on the right
Hear the distant call of “Point”

See a handler spur to the call
Followed by a judge and some gallery
The scout sitting his mount cap raised
The pointer quivering on point

See the handler slide off
Commence shuffling
Quail lifting and flying away
Hear the pistol’s sharp crack

Then all canter to regain the front
Where the other dog is pointing at the turn
His handler trying to flush
Then tapping for relocation

All holding their breath
As the dog seeks to regain the scent
Then freezes again
He’s got ‘em-or not-we’ll soon know, yep!

We turn east toward the barn
Into vast country where a dog
Can look like a Million
If it’s got what it takes today

Each dog has a find
And the start of a worthy race
But will it fulfill its promise
Or will it fade in the thirty five minutes remaining

We shall see
Soon enough
A great show
Or perhaps two picked up