I would take nothing
For my days as a farm boy
Days waking up
To chores with the cows and sheep
The hay and the pasture
The fences around them Read more
On Being a Farm Boy
Blog
The Prenup
Ben learned from Sam that Buck Branch had left Minnie, his wife of thirty years, for a younger woman, how much younger was a matter of speculation by the curmudgeons as they cast popping bugs for bream on the pond at Mossy Swamp Plantation. It was March 1 and the smell of smoke from controlled burns filled the soft spring air.
“She says she signed an agreement that says she gets nothing before they were married.I told her she should consult you,” Sam said.
At these words, Ben’s temper flared.
“You mean nothing, no alimony or share of marital property?” Ben asked. Read more
An Open Letter to the American Field Publishing Company
Dear American Field management and ownership:
I have been a loyal subscriber and contributor for six decades. I understand and appreciate the economic reasons for your leavIng behind the world of print media. I write to urge you to pursue excellence in the world of internet publishing. I will gladly pay for on-line access to your priceless records of the pointing dog world going back to 1874, and I believe others will also. Please do not let your (and our) heritage slip away. Read more
Preacher
Everyone called him Preacher. That’s all I had ever heard. So I asked Mr. Turley what Preacher’s real name was. “Gene Turner,” Mr. Turley replied. “Hahaha. I’ve got to say, he got it honest. Was the beat’nist thing I ever saw. Faith, that’s what it was. Maybe not in God, but faith none the less.” Read more
How I Came to Write About Bird Dogs
I came by a love of stories, written and oral, by inheritance. My father and his father loved them too, and from an early age turned me to reading stories. They were both fans of O. Henry, Jack London and James Thurber, among others. My father liked particularly light verse, especially that of Ogden Nash, which appeared regularly in The New Yorker Magazine Read more
Joe and Denny and Me — and Lucky
In the summer of 1973, when I was thirty-five and a striving Richmond lawyer, I got an amazing gift from a more striving life insurance salesman hoping for referrals from me, an introduction to his brother, Joe Prince, perhaps Virginia’s most striving grain farmer, and after his crops of wheat, peanuts, soybeans and corn were up, most striving quail hunter. Read more
Marshall Loftin (by Danny Bardwell)
My favorite Marshall Loftin story was told to me by Marshall while we were riding the soon to be grounds at Sandy Hollow, Wilmer, Louisiana. Marshall said one December a judge from Baton Rouge called him to see about buying a squirrel dog. It seemed that the judge wanted to take his grandson squirrel hunting during the Christmas break. Read more
The Whistle (by Danny Bardwell)
While running a dog at the NBHA National Open derby stake last week I lost a whistle that I had used in South Dakota. I had scratched my mother’s birthday on the side of it on that day, August 27, 1979. I should not have been using it, but it was my favorite. Good things come and go I guess. Losing it, and looking for it, and remembering it, reminded me of the following, one of many memories I have of that summer. It’s not meant to be a work of prose although it may become one sometime in the future. I’m just recounting as it comes to me. However, every word and how it transpired is true, exactly true. Read more
Robin and Rick in Alberta
Rick told me of a trip to a trial in Alberta he and Robin made back when they were getting started with just a few shooting dogs in their strings. The trial had stakes in every open category and they ended up with winners or placements in all except the Derby. They were feeling good about it. Robin had been talking on the way out west about how he felt constant pressure to uphold the Gates name and reputation. Read more
Robin and Rick
I had a phone conversation with Rick Furney this week that brought back vividly memories from the past quarter century and beyond, sweet memories of watching Robin and Rick compete head to head in field trials across the country. I first watched Robin handle at the Eastern Open Shooting Dog Championship at South Hill, Virginia, in 1976 when Hilmar won for Larry Moon and Alamance Pride was Runner-Up for Arthur Bean, and Robin handled a marvelous string of shooting dogs. That was forty-four years ago! Read more