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What if?

What if there were no more field trials?  Soon there would be only ankle warmers For only competition’s testing leads to better breeding It’s not a way-out theory  It’s the truth Read more

Days Remembered

I was twenty three to thirty  Care worn and sometimes depressed  But grouse season opened So I put my setter in the plywood box I’d built  Read more

Mountain Roads

I love to drive the byways Of the counties of my youth Where the Blue Ridge rises steeply And the hollers hold streams roiling in the spring  Where white pines blend with rhododendrons And hickories caress poplars and ginseng grows below Where stone bridges span the bottoms and high vistas wait at tops Where Forty Fords hauled moonshine and peach brandy to West Virginia miners in my youth Yes I Read more

You Know

You know your momma was deep south if You ate okra In Shrimp Gumbo or  Fried crisp or stewed and in soup Or with rice  Read more

Scouts

The year is 1947. The War is finally over, in Europe and Japan. Veterans of the War, leaving home for it as boys, have returned as men, matured by a baptism of fire, some wounded physically, more wounded emotionally, but sharing joy it is over along with its scars.  They are at Broomhill, Manitoba, having trained bird dogs nearby since mid-July. It is the first week in September, time for the Canadian prairie trials, resuming after the War. Mose Blevins had been a scout all his adult life, and now he is fifty-five, not old, but his arthritis is taking its toll. His son Robert is home from the War in Europe. He is twenty-six, hoping to succeed his father as a dog man on Twin Oaks Plantation in Southwest Georgia.  Read more