A Wonderful Shoot!

This afternoon Chuck, Tristan, fat Leo the Labrador, and I converged on Buckeye Pheasant Farm west of Dayton for a memorable shoot. After a lane or two of very fast hunting in a new and exciting place, Leo settled into his customary rythem, and by the end of the day was hunting as well as I have ever seen him work. We bagged ten pheasants, which are now awaiting their destiny as stir fry in Tristan's freezer in Oxford. Those of you who follow this blog may remember that one of the questions surrounding this hunt was how much of the Marine Corps remains in my Son. The question was answered shortly after we arrived. Tristan uncased the Winchester model 12 pump gun and layed it next to the Stoeger side by side. He then quietly recased the double and loaded his grandfather's pump. Every time someone signaled that the dog was "on", Tristan assumed that assault stance that is so characteristic of so many of our young men today and shot like the professional he was and remains. Once a Marine, always a Marine! I suppose that this means he will never shoot with the grace of a Robert Churchill or the style of an Elmer Keith, but he does bag more than his share of birds with the quick shots of a veteran infantryman. Two years ago when he was home on leave after his first deployment to the high desert, I remember watching him in the field when we were following the terriers in search of vermin. As we crossed a fence or forded a stream, it broke my heart to see him assume the slouching range walk of one who expected to engage at any moment. Even in Fairfield County, he was back in "the Stan." After he came home as a wounded warrior, I remember watching him scan every parking lot for trip wires and every rooftop for snipers. But today my boy was back, and the joy of the hunt was in his eyes again. He did comment once that it was nice to be able to step wherever he wished and not have to worry about being blown up. Welcome home son, we love you more than words can express.