My passion is bird dogs and bird hunting, yet sadly I cannot remember the first gamebird that fell at my shot. I am however blessed with vivid memories of following coon hounds with my grandfather. The most pleasurable memories I have of hunting with my grandfather was when I hunted not only with him, but with him and his friends. There was something special about being included in the group of men who smoked cigarettes, chewed tobacco, and stole snorts of Dr, McGillicuddy's from the toolbox mounted in the bed of the truck.
This weekend I was blessed to have been apart of young mans first introduction to hunting Blue Grouse in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado. I can only hope that the few days spent together in the mountains chasing the sometimes elusive grouse was enough to instill a lifetime of love of for the birds, the dogs, and the men that chase them. My greatest hope is that years from now he will remember hunts with his father and the men that accompanied them, just as fondly as I remember the hunts with my Grandfather and his friends.
I'm glad you're sharing a torchlight of classic hunting ideals with a young lad who may just as easily be marauded and won over by the gadget happy and bone-collecting masses who constitute the majority of modern hunting. Good on ya and I'm sure the boy will remember this forever. Thanks for sharing.
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