Larry Eckart
Well-known member
Guys (and Dani),
Several of you have experienced the pain of losing your hunting partner, either four-legged or two-legged. It has been a while since I lost a hunting buddy. My time came last week. I thought I?d write a note and express my grief and appreciation for time well spent together.
For over 15 years you went with me on every trip to the woods. Fondly I remember sharing the grouse woods of northern Ontario with you. Traipsing through sodden woodcock cover and wrestling through the brambles of the Canadian Shield, you were there.
Riding shotgun on trips of the Mighty Layout Boys to Pool 9 and the Bay of Quinte, you never complained even though the results did not quite justify all the miles. You were eager to go, always eager to go.
The trips across the border to Mitchell?s Bay, just outside Windsor, Ontario were always a pleasure together. We would hunt Tuesdays. I?d get home from work on Monday night. The Blazer would be packed. I would kiss Kathy good-by and off we went to the high adventure of spending a quick night and day together. Frequently there were bluebills. Sometimes we shared the glee of seeing those kings who ride the sky with long noses and silver backs: canvasback!
In the spring, you switched gears with me in Michigan to prowl the woods and peer through the ground cover in search of the lovely morel. It was always time well spent.
Even though you didn?t protest our move from Michigan to Hilton Head for work, you never seemed as comfortable there as you were in Michigan. Nor did I.
The recent move to North Carolina had come with the glorious prospect of spending days, many days hiking and scouting the hills of the Piedmont, an area that feels more like home to both of us than we ever experienced in Hilton Head. ?Paradise? they called the sea island. Hah! We knew better that paradise looked more like the marsh and the upland hills than a beach will every offer.
In our initial trips in the hills of central North Carolina, you were unflagging in your enthusiasm although age has crept up on both of us.
So I was not prepared when, at the end of our most recent trip you gave out. I took you to the doctor and the doctor just shook his head. No hope? No therapy? No medication? How can this be? There was no warning. I was not prepared for the loss and the grief.
But there it is. And I must lay you down to rest.
Thank you for all the miles together.
Rest in peace.
I thought you all would appreciate a pic. By the way, I borrow the title, "A Grief Observed" from that sage theologian and historian, C.S. Lewis.
Larry
View attachment IMG_2272.jpeg
View attachment IMG_2274.jpeg
Several of you have experienced the pain of losing your hunting partner, either four-legged or two-legged. It has been a while since I lost a hunting buddy. My time came last week. I thought I?d write a note and express my grief and appreciation for time well spent together.
For over 15 years you went with me on every trip to the woods. Fondly I remember sharing the grouse woods of northern Ontario with you. Traipsing through sodden woodcock cover and wrestling through the brambles of the Canadian Shield, you were there.
Riding shotgun on trips of the Mighty Layout Boys to Pool 9 and the Bay of Quinte, you never complained even though the results did not quite justify all the miles. You were eager to go, always eager to go.
The trips across the border to Mitchell?s Bay, just outside Windsor, Ontario were always a pleasure together. We would hunt Tuesdays. I?d get home from work on Monday night. The Blazer would be packed. I would kiss Kathy good-by and off we went to the high adventure of spending a quick night and day together. Frequently there were bluebills. Sometimes we shared the glee of seeing those kings who ride the sky with long noses and silver backs: canvasback!
In the spring, you switched gears with me in Michigan to prowl the woods and peer through the ground cover in search of the lovely morel. It was always time well spent.
Even though you didn?t protest our move from Michigan to Hilton Head for work, you never seemed as comfortable there as you were in Michigan. Nor did I.
The recent move to North Carolina had come with the glorious prospect of spending days, many days hiking and scouting the hills of the Piedmont, an area that feels more like home to both of us than we ever experienced in Hilton Head. ?Paradise? they called the sea island. Hah! We knew better that paradise looked more like the marsh and the upland hills than a beach will every offer.
In our initial trips in the hills of central North Carolina, you were unflagging in your enthusiasm although age has crept up on both of us.
So I was not prepared when, at the end of our most recent trip you gave out. I took you to the doctor and the doctor just shook his head. No hope? No therapy? No medication? How can this be? There was no warning. I was not prepared for the loss and the grief.
But there it is. And I must lay you down to rest.
Thank you for all the miles together.
Rest in peace.
I thought you all would appreciate a pic. By the way, I borrow the title, "A Grief Observed" from that sage theologian and historian, C.S. Lewis.
Larry
View attachment IMG_2272.jpeg
View attachment IMG_2274.jpeg