Last week I was a little late getting home from work. Since darkness would be approaching soon I decided to feed my dogs; feeding them while there was still light would make the job much easier. This chore was always the high point of my day, but my weariness after a hard day at work was threatening to take away some of the enjoyment. My fifteen-year-old son somehow sensed how tired I was and offered to help me with the chore. I was glad he offered to help, because as we walked to where the dogs were staked out, it gave us time to talk about our day's experiences and share some of our feelings. Normally we drove the truck down the dirt road to where the dogs were staked out, but for some reason I felt as if we should walk. As we walked along I put my arm around my son. This was something he would not have allowed if we had not been alone. I mean, a father is not suppose to put his arm around his fifteen year old son is he? Maybe if he were younger it would be OK. Somehow I got the feeling he didn't mind it now; was silently pleased that I had put my arm around his shoulder as we walked. I immediately recognized this time would be one of those special times, because as we walked along we spoke with unusual openness and candor that would leave us knowing much more about each other than we did before. It was times like this that any good father would value as priceless… and the boy would too. But that would come later, some time in the future… after the father was gone, when a young man would think back on things in his past. I walked slowly trying to savor every minute as we made it to where the dogs were staked out. As we got close to the dogs the dust filled the air. The drought we were experiencing in South Carolina had made the sand turn into a dry powder The dogs stirred this up as they ran around excitedly anticipating their daily meal. The dust began to drift in an ever- increasing circle. I looked in the sky hoping to see a sign of a rain cloud, but there was none. The dogs were barking now letting me know they were getting impatient. When we reached the dogs we both knew exactly what to do. I filled up a five gallon bucket with dog food and began to feed the dogs while my son started gathering up the water buckets. As I fed the dogs I would occasionally look up to watch my son as he went about giving fresh water to each dog. I laughed to myself as he got to Sue one of my setters. Sue looked different from the rest of the setters because she had so many black spots. I would tell people she looked like a longhaired Dalmatian. She was a daughter of Pinekone Max and came from the line of Smith Setters. She looked just like Tomoka when she pointed, and had great style. Her tail would be high and her head arched up at an angle that made her look like she was trying to smell the sky. I knew this was my son's favorite dog. Even though he had told me in the past he was not interested in birddogs, I had recognized this as one of those things a son sometimes says out of rebellion. I knew this because I too was young once. I knew that a young man looked for differences between himself and his father. But later in life, when he thought about his father, he would only to be able to remember how much alike they were alike, and wouldn't remember any of the differences he had conjured up as a youth. So, when he told me he wasn't interested in birddogs I would laugh, and I would tell him that to like birddogs was in his blood, that he got it from me, and there was nothing he could do about it, and that one day it would come out.Who knows, maybe my interest in dogs would have developed much later if I had grown up with computer games and DVDs. I was glad they weren't around back then. They might have cheated me out of some of the memorable times I had had with the dogs. I watched him as he bent down and rubbed the setter's head and talked soothingly to her. He was on his knees now holding the dog close, and I thought to myself, it wouldn't be long now until he realized the truth of what I had always told him. The love of dogs and woods had come honestly to me through my father, but I would learn later what he had learned long before me. I would learn it was not the excitement of the hunt that would draw me to the woods so often, but rather the religious experience I felt while there.You see, I would learn to see the woods as something like a Holy place, because it was the only place I knew where a man could go, and no mater which direction he looked, he would see God. Just then a new car came down the dirt road that separated my land from the large track of land beyond. The vehicle stopped, and when the dust settled a little the driver's door opened and a young man got out. I recognized him immediately, having first seen him as a young boy more than 20 years ago. As the young man reached out for my hand my mind went back in time to the first time I had seen him. His father was a very wealthy man by any mans standards, and had just bought the huge tract of land that bordered mine. He was overseeing the building of a cabin on his land near a large pond. The cabin was to be used to entertain friends and business acquaintances. The dirt road that went to the cabin passed by where I kept my dogs. I was in a dog pen that day with a female pointer I owned that had a litter of puppies when the man stopped his car and got out to talk. He had his two sons with him that day, and the oldest was the boy I had just greeted. While I talked to the man I let his two sons in the pen to play with the puppies. I can still remember how excited they were when I let them in the pen. The pups had just turned eight weeks old and I ended up giving the boys one that day as a present. When I told them to pick one out I can remember how long it took them to decide on one. I remember them putting the squirming little pup in the car that day and wondered if it did any damage to their new car. When they left they were as excited as any two little boys I had ever seen. When I got back to the house and told my wife about giving the boys the pup, she ask me how I let a rich man get away without making him pay for it. I knew she was just joking, because I somehow felt she knew why I had given the boys the pup; how I had probably remembered my own excitement when I got my first birddog pups as a young boy, and couldn't stand to see someone cheated out of such an experience. I had hoped that the boys would grow up with the pup and have many fond memories of spending time in the woods with the dog, but fate would not have it. Within a few months a tragedy would take the boys mother and father. The boys would go to be raised by their grandparents. I got a call from the family asking if I wanted the dog back, since the boys would not be able to keep it when they went to stay with their grandparents. I was told an uncle was interested in the dog and I told them to give it to him, hoping that the boys might still be able to spend some time with it. It was a very sad affair. As I thought back on it, I couldn't help but remember the mother of the pups.She was the best hunting dog I had ever owned, and she was almost solid white. She was a granddaughter of Riggins White Knight and also had Warhoop Jake in her pedigree. There were other famous dogs in her pedigree, but these are the only two I now remember. I guess not being able to remember is what is to be expected when one gets older. What I do remember, and what I will never forget though, is how she hunted. What she wanted to do more than anything, and what she did well, was find birds for me when we hunted. When I think of her I always remember a bloody mouth and a bloody tail that was held high when she pointed. She never hesitated to go into the briars if that is where the birds were. Many times the only way I found her on point was to see her tail, the end always crimson in color, sticking up above the cover. Another thing I remember is that when I hunted with friends she would always be in front of the other dogs when we found them on point. I never caught her trying to steal a point, but there were a few times I was suspicious. She had such good qualities I always wondered if maybe she could have become a champion if she had fallen into other hands. She certainly had the qualities; she was an all day dog and had the nose, the speed, the heart and the endurance. She also had the range, but this was tempered as she learned to hunt for me. For what she wanted more than anything was to get a bird in her mouth. What she soon learned was that we were a team, and she had a certain range she had to respect if we were to be successful. Yes, we had made a good team then with me being young and strong and able to walk many miles in rough country, and her a great dog, eager to hunt for me and complement my enthusiasm and passion. Another thing I can remember about her is how she taught me that lesson that you hear about in every birddog training book, a lesson that every bird hunter learns in his lifetime if he hunts long enough. And that lesson is " Always give the dog the benefit of the doubt.' Yes it was this granddaughter of " White Knight" that taught it to me, and I learned it well. I had gotten off work a little early and there were still a few hours before dark, just enough time to find a couple of coveys if we hunted hard and were lucky. Before an hour was up she had pinned a covey in knee-high cover just on the edge of a large soybean field. The birds were feeding late. Bad weather was on the way and they wanted to have a craw full of beans before they went to roost. As luck would have it the birds got up wild as I walked in to flush, but I was able to knock one down even though it was a long shot, perhaps one I should have held back. The bird fell and my dog went to fetch. She had always been a good retriever, and had never refused to bring back a bird. I continued to walk as she went after the bird. The bird was still alive but could only fly for a few feet and I watched as she made several attempts to get it firmly in her mouth, the bird flying off several times until she finally got it. During the time she was trying to get the bird, I continued to walk up the hill. I watched as she turned to change directions to bring the bird back to where I had walked. She was coming to me now, and I can still remember the bird was still able to occasionally flap his wings even with her firm grip. When she had gone about half the distance that separated us she froze into one of the prettiest points I had ever seen her make. I called her several times but she wouldn't move. Finally I decided to go back to her to show her how foolish she had been to point, she wasn't even close to where the birds had gotten up. It was too close for another covey to be found, and I had already fired several times. Surely if there had been any birds there they would have flushed. As I walked back to her I held my shotgun loosely in one hand. When I got to within about twenty feet of her a covey exploded into the air and flew back over her head. I never paid much attention to what she did after the flush, but that day she just stood there staring at me with a look that said, " Did you think I would lie to you boss"? I was so surprised when the birds got up I didn't even shoot, and we were only able to get a few singles before darkness caught up with us. I think it took a long time for me to regain her trust after that. I had never before that day or ever since seen two coveys so close together, and how she smelled that covey with that bird in her mouth I will never know. But one thing I do know, I learned " the lesson" that day, and I have ever since given the dog the benefit of the doubt. Later in my life I would witness many field trials lost because a pro trainer in all his infinite wisdom had not quite learned "the lesson" as well as I had learned it that day. " How are you doing Sir, I just stopped to see if you had any birddog puppies for sale"?, the young man said as he walked up and shook my hand. I looked at the young man now I had met so long ago. He was well dressed and had grown into a very handsome young man that displayed courtesy and respect uncommon to many young men born into such wealth. He was a tribute to his grandparents who had raised him well. He had grown into a young man any father would have been proud to call son. "Not now, but I plan to breed one of my females soon I answered. I will let you have the pick of the litter, is that fair enough." Which dog do you think I should breed"? I asked.He looked around at all the dogs staked out and said, " I think the one your son is petting is the prettiest. What is her name?" "Sue, I answered, and she is the one I will breed then. I think we should probably have some pups in say three or four more months. Check back by in about three months and maybe I will have some good news for you". I was glad he had picked the spotted female, because I had always thought she would have some nice pups. Her endurance and style would go a long way in making some nice pups. " In the mean time you can look at those pups in that dog house over there. Our yard dog had some puppies and they just opened their eyes about a week ago", I said. I watched as he walked excitedly to the doghouse where the puppies were. I continued to feed the dogs because the light was beginning to dim as night slowly approached. I continued to watch the young man as he got down on his knees in the dusty sand, not caring about getting his clothes dirty. He pulled a puppy from the doghouse, and then traded it for another. As I watched him out of the corner of my eye, I saw him look around to see if anybody was looking. I then watched as he pressed the little pups face next to his and held it there. Suddenly, I didn't see the young man anymore. Instead it was the little boy that had been in my dog pen so many years ago. In a few moments as I watched he turned into the young man again, and I was awed by the magic I had just seen. Somehow I felt even though he had be born into such great wealth, his life would have been much richer if he had grown up with the pup I had given him so long ago. Occasionally I would look back as he held the small pup in his hands. After a time he slowly placed the pup back in the dog house and got to his feet. " I appreciate you letting me look at your puppies Sir, and I will stop again to see if you have gotten a chance to breed your dog. You have some very pretty dogs." Having said that, the young man got in his car and drove away. I watched as his car disappeared over a hill. As I lost sight of his taillights only a cloud of dust was left to prove a car had just passed. I finished feeding the dogs and sat down on an old dog box. I watched my son. He was through watering the dogs and again he was on his knees with his arms around Sue, the spotted setter. Sitting on the dog box I had time for reflection and many thoughts passed through my mind. As I looked at my dogs I thought about what a great gift God had given man when he gave him the dog. Sometimes I think he gave man dogs to teach man how to live, how to gain character by learning qualities best learned from dogs - unconditional love, devotion, trust, and most important of all, how to forgive. I also thought about the magic I had just seen. I wondered if it was God's magic that an older man like me, no matter how he might have been hardened by war or life's experiences, when he was kneeling down looking at a litter of puppies and having picked one up, and after looking around to see that no one was looking, pressed the puppies face to his and maybe smelled the sweet breath of the puppy, and then with all the innocence that comes with the age, for just a few moments, just like the young man I had seen that night, the old man too, for just a few moments, would turn into a little boy. And it being near Christmas it was only natural that I would think of all the gifts that had been given me, my children, all of us having good health, being born in a free country, good friends, the ability to make a decent living, the dogs, all these blessings that went far beyond what I deserved. And even though I was not wealthy by any means, I still felt as if I were a rich man. " Dad maybe we should go now. I still have some homework to do", said my son. It was dark now, but the full moon shining down on Carolina still made it possible to see the dogs.They were all quiet now and occasionally they would look in our direction. I looked up in the sky to see it there were any clouds, but the sky was clear. I looked at the moonlight as it shined through the tops of the Carolina pines. The moonlight made it look as if someone had sprinkled diamonds in their tops. Yes, I felt like I was a very rich man. I put my arm around my son and slowly we walked back home.