You were such a good dog..a loyal friend..a dedicated hunter. I didn't deserve to have you as mine. You were better than that, better than me.
View attachment TRAVELLER.jpg
I wrote this for you a few years ago. Do you remember?
by the door i placed my shells, my coat and the
shotgun in the case
you stand by the truck with the decoys
I see the look on your face
before the dawn we gather and load
hopeful for weather, we hit the road
we had plenty of good hunts, and I'll never forget
the look in your eye
watching
from our blind in the marsh
the birds in the sky
the report of the shotgun is your action call
do you ever wonder why
some birds don't fall?
You bound from the blind into the cold cold bay and
the splash you did make
swimming, never tired, for the
retrieve of the drake
the hunt for the cripple with your head and not to
the grasses bent
and the sway of your tail when you
gather the scent
you break skim ice and your coat
covered with frost
a whoop and a holler for a bird I once thought
lost
I think fondly of the greenwing teal, the pintail, the banded black duck,
the bluebill, Swan and Dove
and your face when the fly, wings lock, overhead, now out front!
It is what you love.
At day's end, by the woodstove, asleep
on a blanket with fur rising steam
whiskey in hand I wonder
what you dream
Birds in the field and Ducks
on the wing
'ol Traveller, my friend,
Life is a wonderful thing
View attachment TRAVELLER.jpg
I wrote this for you a few years ago. Do you remember?
by the door i placed my shells, my coat and the
shotgun in the case
you stand by the truck with the decoys
I see the look on your face
before the dawn we gather and load
hopeful for weather, we hit the road
we had plenty of good hunts, and I'll never forget
the look in your eye
watching
from our blind in the marsh
the birds in the sky
the report of the shotgun is your action call
do you ever wonder why
some birds don't fall?
You bound from the blind into the cold cold bay and
the splash you did make
swimming, never tired, for the
retrieve of the drake
the hunt for the cripple with your head and not to
the grasses bent
and the sway of your tail when you
gather the scent
you break skim ice and your coat
covered with frost
a whoop and a holler for a bird I once thought
lost
I think fondly of the greenwing teal, the pintail, the banded black duck,
the bluebill, Swan and Dove
and your face when the fly, wings lock, overhead, now out front!
It is what you love.
At day's end, by the woodstove, asleep
on a blanket with fur rising steam
whiskey in hand I wonder
what you dream
Birds in the field and Ducks
on the wing
'ol Traveller, my friend,
Life is a wonderful thing