My Most Prized Possession

            I have been asked what my most prized possession is many times. It is a difficult question because I have never cared much about possessions. But I would have to say it is a framed picture that is in my bedroom.

            The picture is of me when I was about 14 years old standing next to my first bird dog Belle. She is on point and you can read my lips saying “wow”. In the background is rolling hills and an old wooden cabin.

            This picture was taken at Sandy Creek Shooting Preserve in Red Oak, Virginia. It is where I first quail hunted and where my dad bought Belle from. The picture may not be valuable to anyone else but it is valuable to me because of the memories it provokes.

            Belle was an amazing dog. I am a little biased but after hunting over several other dogs at different preserves I think she is the best bird dog that ever quail hunted. If she went on point there was no doubt there was a bird there. She also just loved to hunt. She would always follow commands and come when she was called unless you were near the truck when hunting because she didn’t want to stop. I understand this, I never want to quit quail hunting either. I often say the first thing I hope to do in heaven is hunt over that dog again.

            The man who ran Sandy Creek Shooting Preserve was an older gentleman named Billy. Before every hunt at this preserve we would sit in his living room and he would tell stories. He had a very interesting life. I believe he was raised in that wooden cabin in the background of that picture. He did a lot of different types of hunting and ran that preserve, and trained, and sold dogs for years. That time was worth more things than money can buy.

            The other thing about that picture is I am clearly walking in slowly, holding my shotgun. Keeping it safely pointed at the sky but having my hands close to ready. Having my hands where they need to be to quickly throw it up and make a shot. My bottom hand is on the handle just below the trigger guard. My top hand is on the forestock making it easy to quickly slide my hands and put it to my shoulder. This evokes all of the memories of learning to hunt and shoot from my father. I remember going to a preserve not long ago and being a little bit annoyed by the safety brief because I thought all of those things seemed obvious but then I had to remember not everyone grew up hunting from a young age and were taught by people who are smart and responsible.

            I do really love art work. I have a lot in my apartment and most are related to hunting. I have a few different paintings of dogs. Some of deer, and others of ducks, and geese flying in. But this photograph is worth so much more to me than that because I was there and I can feel it. I know the feeling of pride of seeing your dog going on point. I know the tension of telling your dog “wow” because you don’t want her to move knowing there is a bird close to the end of her nose. I know the feeling of my heart beating faster as I move in ready to flush and shoot.

            They say a picture is worth a thousand words but this one is worth a million memories. It is not just that one point, that one hunt, or that one bird. It is about every single time I hunted over that dog and all the time in between I got to spend with her. It’s about all the lessons I learned spending time with my dad riding out to these places to hunt. And it’s about something I learned to enjoy as a young boy and probably appreciate and enjoy more now. That picture is worth more than a thousand words. It’s absolutely priceless to me and my most prized possession.