Routines

Sometimes following a routine could be construed as being stuck in a rut. But it’s only a rut if you don’t like it. Depending on the time of year, the season, I guess you could say that I’m a man of routine. Almost every morning of this long, dry summer I would take a short ride on my bike with Gabby running alongside. We’d get out early, when the sun was still low and before the day’s heat set in. Sometimes we’d only go for a mile. Sometimes a bit over three. Our turnarounds were Lindgren’s barn, the RR tracks, Orpha’s corner, or the town hall. It was just enough to get a bit of exercise (mostly for Gabby) and to get a handle on the day. We often spotted deer along the way, and became familiar with the pair of sandhill cranes that trodded the open fields west of here. As August wore on Gabby would sometimes slam into a point just off the road and I’d have to stop and wade into the brush to flush a young brood of grouse. Of course, we always like finding birds, but that brush can be kind of tough when you’re wearing shorts and sandals. 

Lately, the morning route has taken a different path. It’s close to bird hunting season and better than that: the days are cool. Morning temps in the low 40’s calls for real pants and boots while we hike a quarter-mile of hay field to the cover beyond. Though the hay was cut weeks ago, it’s hardy grown due to drought conditions and is only a few inches deep. Now, early morning dew makes us forget how dry the months have been and the wet grass shimmers in the light and looks like the frost which will be here soon. 

Gabby runs ahead, of course, and I can’t help thinking about how many times I’ve enjoyed watching a bird dog racing across this field over the past four decades. And how many young dogs have I seen pointing the planted birds I hid in spots around this field. I get a little melancholy knowing there were more behind me than there will be ahead. 

That field has remained constant over the years but the woods surrounding it have changed. Once old and heavy with over-mature aspen and balsam, it was clearcut and created an open rolling landscape that new growth thrived in. Now, that new growth is getting older but has been a fine bird covert for years. Along with a little creek running through and the accompanying alder and willow runs and thickets my dogs have found countless woodcock and grouse in that cover.  

It’s a short walk from my door and I can be found out there working a dog most springtime mornings and now, when summer seems to be surrendering to autumn. Just this morning I followed Gabby into the cover off the south edge of the field. The leaves are changing but the foliage is still summer thick and she wasn’t always easy to find when she pointed six woodcock and had two grouse finds, one single and the other a brood of five. I finally gathered her up and steered her for home – we hadn’t had breakfast, yet. 

The road borders the north side of the field and we stopped there for a moment. I took another look back across the field and once again confirmed how fortunate I am... and what a good life it is.