Phaedra
The laughing dog
I’m in shock. I can’t breathe. I am so cold! I hear the dog bark. OK, I am alive, and now I can take a breath. I look around and see my dog laughing. She is bouncing up and down on the bank of the stream while barking with a little squeak in her voice.
I am chest deep in a frozen stream. Blocks of ice crowd my face and hands. I crawl up and out. It is a challenging climb. The bank is within reach. I am soaked, head to toe.
This morning started well. After 4 days of brutal cold, the morning promised temperatures warming to near freezing. The sun was that crisp winter sun with more yellow in the light. I had nothing on my to-do list except providing two pheasants for dinner. We were having friends coming for food and conversation.
A good day to pull on the woolen socks and the long johns. Woolen undershirt and a heavy flannel shirt. Lined jeans and a parka with inner insulation. A good fur hat, waterproof boots, and my Ray-Bans completed the ensemble. Ready for a day in the woods.
Phaedra was waiting for me at the back door. She was a gift for my daughter’s fourth birthday. Phaedra was a great dog and the best friend a person could have. Not that she was perfect. There was one significant flaw included with the warm love bomb. When I brought her home, I called a friend who had been training hunting dogs for many years.
Our, my, and Phaedra’s, first day in the field had provided many laughs. She was just too happy to pay close attention to the training. Over the next two weeks, she learned to cast, point, and fetch. Those are the basics and really all I had wanted or expected. She was, after all, a family dog.
We slipped out the back door and walked to the field next to the house. It had been planted in sorghum. Pheasants love sorghum. They build their nests on the ground under the plants. Phaedra knew what to do and was casting laterally. In a very short time, she paused, took a tentative step forward, and pointed. I quietly closed the chamber on a live round and commanded to flush.
Phaedra lunged at the base of the plants, and a large gathering of pheasants flew in every direction. I raised the shotgun and led a large bird just right. I fired, and the bird fell to the ground. This was Phaedra’s first real hunt. She looked back at me, and I told her to fetch the bird. She ran full tilt to the downed pheasant. She stopped, looked down at the dead bird, and looked over her shoulder at me. The look on her face was priceless, and I stifled a laugh. Her look said clearly, “Daddy, it’s dead, and I am not putting that thing in my mouth!”
I walked over to her, picked up the bird, and put it in my bag. I gave her the love she wanted and started the journey to the next field. The shot had cleared this field of pheasants. The next field was a short walk to the South. There was a tiny stream crossing the path between the fields. Since the water did not move quickly, the stream was frozen.
Phaedra ran ahead and stopped on the ice over the stream. She was happy and jumped on the ice until she started to slip and slide. She stood on the far bank and beckoned me forward. She danced away and back, noting that I should follow. The stream was wide enough that I couldn’t jump across with all the heavy clothes, bags, and guns. I stepped in the middle of the ice. This is where I was when you started reading.
It is October and well below freezing. I crawl out of the water and lie on my back. Still really cold but breathing normally. Phaedra is still laughing and nudging me with her nose. I stand and do a quick inventory. I had dropped the gun before I went into the creek. It was OK and the ammo was dry in the pouch. The bag still contained a pheasant, albeit wet. I could walk while I shivered so I decided to complete the mission.
We walked downstream to a narrower crossing, and I jumped. We continued to the other sorghum field, and Phaedra began to cast immediately. She pointed, waited, then flushed on command. I shot the first bird in the air, and Phaedra ran to the bird’s location. I fetched the bird and put it in my bag. I spent a minute congratulating the dog.
We ran together to the house and gave the birds to my wife. She was happy with two fine birds but asked why one was wet. That was when she noticed that I was still in the mud room, standing in a growing puddle.
After a hot shower and a cup of hot chocolate, I told my wife and daughter the story. Phaedra acted like she understood the story. When I got to the part where I went into the creek, she jumped and laughed again. I have forgiven her for her outburst since then.
In the evening with our friends, I told the story again. We all had a good laugh, and the pheasant dinner was great! Family, friends, good food, a good story.
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