Putting the last week of the year to bed is always an interesting proposition. It's raining hard as I post this holiday weekend, and a person would swear it's April, what with the mild temperatures, and extended view of green grass in northern New England. Were it colder, we'd be hammered with that white stuff that just buried Denver.
Time, time, time. A little over a decade ago, I would have been making a road trip to my native northcentral Pennsylvania to hunt second-season, post-Christmas cottontails, ruffed grouse, and pheasants, but after 25 some years in the "beagle business" as my dad calls it, his last dog (Pokey II) remains just that. The last one . . .
I've hunted with three English setters since then, and they surround me in this home office as I hammer the keyboard--two older girls and my boy setter who's in his prime. Just yesterday Radar, 4, found three grouse in two different southern Maine spots, which is one reason some of us cultivate such a human-canine relationship. It's also just plain better with a dog for reasons only we understand . . .
We always assess what we've done for the past year, and what we should have done, though regret is a stupid emotion, and action is always better, especially if a plan is involved. I was fortunate enough to hunt Texas turkeys with a bunch of good industry friends in April, and Wyoming with bud John Hafner. I turned down yet other travel options due to scheduling challenges, but that's always a good problem to have.
Extended road trips, or local one-hour outings (with or without a shotgun) put me in Maine, New Hampshire, Vermont, and central New York state, where Marc Brown and I each took a fall wild turkey with the help of my setter Midge. Dogging flocks is a legal strategy in N.Y., and this--her tenth season--was indeed a blessing. As Dr. B. said during the hunt, "You've had a good run." The crisp autumn breeze had little to do with the mist in my eyes . . .
So, all in all, it's been a good year. The next one--following my birthday next week when I continue to remain "fortysomething"--should be promising. January through March will involve the outdoor show circuit, and hammering deadlines at this computer before the spring turkey seasons commence around the country . . . I'll get to Texas first. A state with 600,000 turkeys is always a good place to begin your season, and the landscape, flora, fauna, and people are always memorable--once you get multiple flights and layovers out of the way. It's the price to pay, and I'll grant it every time.
I'll likely road trip my way through northern New England as usual in May, plus N.Y. Trout and striped bass will always provide a pleasant diversion: first in April out of habit, then later in June (Maine's turkey season runs until 6/2--the longest in the United States). As my daughter said to me recently: "You know how I love to fish, daddy."
Here's to everything that's been, and what's to come.
Steve Hickoff photo
