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A Questionable Entry

We turned him loose  On “27” at 1:15 He cast to front  Was soon unseen But Lordy Me  Our   Sung out far right And it was he on point at 10 Read more

A Derby

Billy Hanes had been a framing carpenter until rising interest rates choked the house building business around his native west Kentucky and he withdrew his savings, bought a four-year-old dually and a well used gooseneck livestock trailer he adapted to haul horses and dogs and lit out for North Dakota in June, hoping to find a place to train. He lucked on to that in a week of driving around and asking wherever he saw a roadside mailbox in likely looking territory. He had with him four green horses he’d picked up at a sale barn and a dozen dogs, half pups, half coming derbies, all pointers. Read more

The Farrier

He knew many, was known by few, known deeply by none. None knew his home place, for he had none, save his truck, adapted by him for his craft as an itinerant shoer of horses. Where he was depended on the calendar: spring and summer on the small-town rodeo circuit in the west, early fall through March on the pointing dog field trial circuits (all-age and shooting dog). Read more

A Christmas Fix

Ben and Sam were brainstorming on how to help their old friends, the handler Jim Heath and his helper Booty Blevins, with their problem, brought on by old age. Jim was seventy, Booty seventy-two. The Curmudgeons had considerable experience, much of it first-hand, with problems brought on by old age. But they had been fortunate to avoid Jim and Booty’s problem, LOF (lack of funds). Jim and Booty still had the will to work, indeed loved to work. Problem was, age had robbed them of an asset essential to their craft, eyesight. Jim had macular degeneration, Booty glaucoma. What could they do with their skill sets to make a buck, that was the question the Curmudgeons were pondering as they slowly sipped end-of-day-end-of-week drams of The Macallan 12 in Ben’s library-conference room. Read more

A Poacher Forgiven

Albert Cole felt jubilant this opening day of quail hunting season in Thomas County. He had recently concluded successful negotiations to purchase a tract of 300 acres adjoining his Cedar Creek Plantation, rounding out the acreage of his quail shooting estate at 5,000 acres, its original size when assembled for $6 an acre by his great grandfather, a Robber Baron of the Gilded Age, from desperate turpentiners and cotton farmers in two stages, the first beginning in 1893 with a financial panic that led to a Depression lasting until 1897, the second with a Boll Weevil attack on cotton in 1915.  Read more

I Miss the Mountains

I miss the mountains whence I came The Blue Ridge of Southwest Virginia The Parkway ribbons along their top From Afton to Fancy Gap non-stop In April they turn from brown to green Redbuds and dogwoods declare spring In October they blaze yellow, orange, red, Under myriad sunsets, moons full and new Night skies lit by stars or gray with rain Read more

Run-off at the Invitational

Judge Sam Scales knew them all and knew them well. That’s why he tried to talk his two fellow judges out of the run-off between Jersey Mike and Alabama Al. He agreed they were the top two dogs among the four that had gone down for two hours today, Monday. And he could have lived with giving the title to either of them and runner-up to the other. But one wanted to name Mike Champion and the other Al. Both were insisting on a run-off Tuesday morning.  Read more