Outdoors Adventures, January 18, 2007 Emporia Gazette

Bye, Deets

Snowfall greets us once again and what a beautiful snow it is. Wednesday, I was returning from a late season pheasant hunt in Pratt County and made it home just in time. Having once been caught in a White Out, I always listen to the weather forecast before starting such a late winter adventure and plan accordingly. The hunt, despite high winds and especially being in the company of an old high school friend, was great. Twas the shooting that was bad! Reflexes aren’t what they use to be.

The main goal of this hunt was to explore Kansas, eat a good steak and to be in front of a TV come Tuesday night to watch one of the Comanche Moon episodes. I won’t go into explaining how painful it was getting out of the chair at the motel to get a little refreshment during commercial break. Even though cramps and old age were wreaking havoc on the legs of both my fiend and I, we can still laugh about it! Laughed and cried in pain at the same time.

Being somewhat of a history buff, I enjoy stories like Comanche Moon. It’s hard to fathom what life was like back then with the obstacles the early settlers faced in the new frontier. How fortunate we are to have a country like we have today. I only wish the Indians had been treated better.

The hunt was most enjoyable because I got the pups into birds. Quail have been pretty scarce around here. Besides seeing a lot of pheasants, we did find two large covies of quail. Cassie, the little English pointer, couldn’t go because of her recent illness. I am happy to report she is on the road to recovery. Her malady seemed to be just a virus. Veterinarians do wonders for pets and the mental well-being of owners alike. Thanks, Doc! Do you have anything for a gimpy old birdhunter’s legs?

Sassy, the pups’ dame, also went on this hunt. Even though I found joy in the pups, thoughts of perhaps this being Sassy’s last pheasant hunt and a story Troy Chapman had shared left me with mixed emotions.

Troy was blessed with a young German Shorthair puppy he named Deets about fifteen years ago. Getting a hunting dog used to be one of the best gifts a young man could ask for. When Lonesome Dove first aired, the story, like Comanche Moon, had a character named Deets who was trustworthy, an excellent scout and good with children. Troy’s young pup lived up to this billing. Besides pulling the Chapman children behind the sled on many a snowy outing, Deets did something all us hunters should learn from. He left “thank you” letters along with a rose or two on the kitchen counter for the woman of the house before he left on extended hunts with his master.

Having hunted many years without a dog, each outing was an adventure and learning experience for both Troy and Deets. Troy was amazed at how many birds the dog found--birds he would have walked over without having a dog. The joy of upland gamebird hunting took on a whole new meaning.

Memories. Anyone who has ever owned a dog can relate to experiences, both good and bad, that will bring a smile to their face for a long time.

Deets accompanied Troy on duck hunts to retrieve downed waterfowl. Once when Deets never returned with a retrieve, Troy found him pointing a crippled teal that was submerged and holding onto underwater foliage with its bill! Deets also loved to go camping and fishing. When Troy would catch a fish, Deets could only contain himself so much. He would prance and often wade in the water as if to help Troy land the fish quicker.

Troy will never forget the time Deets made one special find. When he and his friend Terry Jones went in to flush the birds, Deets jumped in and rewarded them with a skunk. Still smelling of skunk and on to the next field, Deets made another find. Understandably, the hunters were a little hesitant, but Deets had birds this time and they were rewarded with an explosive flush of quail. How could Deets even smell birds with all that skunk junk on his face?

Oh, the joys of having a hunting dog! How cruel and quickly they seem to grow old.

Deets had been struggling for a while; he was deaf, his back legs were failing and he had been messing in his bed.

It comes a time when dog owners realize the quality of the dog’s life just isn’t as it should be. Putting a dog down is a tough decision but is something that needs to be done when it’s time.

Once Troy made the decision Deets was suffering too much to bear, he dug a grave next to a plum thicket where they had found many a quail and even a pheasant or two. The thicket was near a creek, close to a game trail used by deer, coyotes and even skunks. Deets would rest in compliment with the animals he so dearly loved.

Memories, experiences and the love you share with a pet all race through your mind as you hold your dog awaiting the vet to arrive. Having gone through this a few times in my life, a tightening is in my throat and a tear is swelling in my eye as I write this. You can only tell yourself it’s best for the animal who has meant so much to you.

Troy wrapped Deets in an old hunting vest along with eight quail loads, some pheasant tail feathers and quail wings before heading to the grave he had dug earlier and buried his old friend. Troy lay on the ground next to his dog’s grave absorbed in thought and memories as darkness closed in. How fitting it was when up and down the creek, quail began whistling their covey call. Deets had found peace. In time, so will Troy.