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I can remember from a very young age following my dad through the woods with rubber boots and an old single shot 410. We would wade out into the cypress ponds and when it got too deep he would set me up on an old stump while he and the lab would post nearby. Birds would rain down on their southern migration and once in a while I’d get lucky enough to shoot an unsuspecting one or two (more than likely swimming on the water).
Now that I’m a dad myself these memories come rushing back so sweet and frequent every winter I venture into the woods. I’ve stomped back into the same ponds I broke ice in 30 years ago with my old man, only now with my son on my back.
Many dogs have come and gone over those 3 decades. The dog on the right is our Gracie and on the left is my fathers new puppy Sage. The old labs of my childhood have now turned into Boykin spaniels. And I can only hope and pray there are many more memories to be made with my father and his grandson, that old single shot 410, and a little brown dog somewhere along the way.
Now that I’m a dad myself these memories come rushing back so sweet and frequent every winter I venture into the woods. I’ve stomped back into the same ponds I broke ice in 30 years ago with my old man, only now with my son on my back.
Many dogs have come and gone over those 3 decades. The dog on the right is our Gracie and on the left is my fathers new puppy Sage. The old labs of my childhood have now turned into Boykin spaniels. And I can only hope and pray there are many more memories to be made with my father and his grandson, that old single shot 410, and a little brown dog somewhere along the way.