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The Houndsman’s Shadow
Owning and working with hounds is an affliction. It’s an addiction unrivaled by the strongest of drugs or drink. When we aren’t out there in the freezing temps, flying snow, or trekking through the roughest terrain God created, we are thinking about it. If we miss even a moment in the woods with the dogs and friends, we scrutinize the decisions that put us there. We skip gatherings in name of the greater good-- hitting the woods. And we owe all of this to someone who took the time to usher us into the world of hounds. One person or a small group who cast a positive shadow on our soul that causes us to get giddy every fall and run out to get our dogs long before daybreak. Right now, you’re smiling because you know a truer statement has never been made!
With winter slowly giving way to spring, the snow-covered ground is turning to sloppy mudslides here in Kansas. I have spent the last 24 hours standing at the window with the coffee cup in hand pondering my first season as a beagler. Hounds are a part of my family that pre-dates my entrance to the world in 1983. I share the videos of the season with many friends and family members. We note the progress of the hounds I raised for those who aren’t familiar. I laugh with my wife and kids as we recall the fun we had over the season. I watch as they anxiously await their opportunity to enter the conversation and tell others about their experiences in the woods. Their friends, as well as adults get wrapped up in the tales they spin.
As a tradition, we ask friends and family to join us for gatherings throughout the year. After eating the chosen meal, and everyone gathering in the shade, it never fails that we end up spreading out photos, reliving countless hunts from who knows when, and time fading to sweeter days. We talk about those who have passed on and the remarkable hounds of yesteryear. It’s in these moments that I feel the hair on my neck stand up. (It happens now as I write this piece for you.) The shadows seem to stretch out lazily as the sun dips lower into the horizon. They seem to be reaching for the conversation in an attempt to keep it going. And it’s in these moments that the shadows almost seem to be visible in our lives. We enjoy their laugh one more time and tell the stories they aren’t there to share. We count the years; mourn our hurt and loss once more. As we do, a silence seems to creep in and take our breath. You can almost hear their voice on the light breeze that dances around those encompassed by the silence. During this, it occurs to me that each of us casts a shadow on others as we pass. It’s in the time and stories we share. And it’s in the stories that others share about us, or the events we were part of. As you read this, I hope it triggers a memory of someone who brought you into hunting, fishing, or the outdoors. Someone that comes from the shadows as you retell the story for the countless time. And be the shadow that comes to life for others as they retell your tale. In the stories I hear my kids tell others, I know I get to creep from the shadows, regardless of when or where they tell it! And this my friends, is the shadow on the ground that follows other hunters into the field long after we are gone.
