I wish you could see what I saw!

The walk started about 5:45 this morning. It began as it usually does, me sitting in my chair on the porch trying to put my walking shoes on while two large dogs try to sneak licks in while I have my head down lacing my shoes. After much good natured admonishment they stand aside quietly to let me finish. Then up, fire up the stop watch, and off the porch we go.

Quickly the dogs smell an unfamiliar scent up near the gravel driveway. Heads down, alert they frantically search for direction, they are absorbed in this new scent and don't follow me down the road right away. Jack tracks the scent down the road, Molly catches up half way to our turning point that leads us out on the lawn. The breeze is steady from the South, it is 62 degrees and the air smells sweet and moist.

We turn North, the dogs with tails at full alert are like to white apparitions drifting in the early light in and out of trees, shrubs and checking those spots on the lawn that serve as markers for them. As we turn North I look West across the lawn toward the cabin and there hung in the sky like some giant light bulb is the moon. It seems to be protesting its descent to the West, but it still casts a strong white light over the landscape. There is a tall tree line behind the cabin and the moonlight glints of the branches of the trees. Fast moving clouds march to the North under the moon which illuminates the tops of the clouds. It reminds me of the old moving pictures where they moved the scenery to give the illusion of actors on the move.

Turning the corner to the island the moon ducks behind the tree tops and seems to play peek-a-boo with me. The dogs still quietly move ahead exploring the edge of the field and ducking down trails they've worn among the honeysuckle disappearing behind a hummock just to reappear as if by magic on the other side. The quiet search they make and the movement of their feed on the leaves and grasses give me reassurance that they are protecting my stroll.

Heading back East down the island the skyline is pink, red and all shades of blue as the sun begins its journey. Still not showing its face it is surely announcing its coming. Once again the low fast moving clouds from the South make the scene ever changing and almost mesmerizing.

So goes the walk. Each succeeding lap shows the moon's retreat and the sun's advance. Finally after 25 minutes the moon has vacated the field and the sun, victorious now begins to shows it jolly red face. The dogs are hanging closer now, Molly stops from time to time to get reassurance from me that everything is OK. Jack is busy chasing a leaf or chewing on a newly found pine branch. We head back for the house to finish our morning chores of refilling the bird feeders and putting fresh water in the kennel.

The walk ends as it began with me sitting in the chair pulling off my shoes, two dogs sneaking in licks while my head is down and anxious for breakfast. There are many good artists, but only one Master - Mother Nature.

Thanksgiving Day in Racine, WI

Our family lived in Racine from 1971 until 1982. During that time I established a Thanksgiving tradition with a good friend. Andre Carrielo and I worked at J. I. Case and while neither of us worked for the other, we were in the manufacturing area and were colleagues. Andre has a knack for noticing things and suggesting a change, he isn't shy about doing it either.

Around 1976 Andre suggested I buy a shotgun as he knew I used to hunt and we could go out to Bong, which was an old SAC airbase that had been closed for years. The Wisconsin DNR had a "put & take" pheasant program there. They stocked the birds on Tuesdays and Thursday and you could buy a tag for $0.50 per bird and hunt them up after they had acclimated for a day or so. It was enjoyable, a cheap source of game birds and good exercise for the dogs.

Well, it got to be habit that he, I, his son Dom and cousin John would go out to Bong on Thanksgiving morning for a hunt. It was a good outing, exercise, and made me feel like I was in touch with the pilgrim's searching out the food from the land.

I had a big, blue 1976 Ford station wagon. One Thanksgiving, probably about 1978 I packed up a cooler with some good Wisconsin cheese, sausage, crackers and I bought a bottle of Port, plus some soda for those who may partake of that. After four hours of hunting, a couple of birds, and a lot of watching the dogs work we closed the hunt and went back to the cars. I dropped the tailgate on the wagon and brought out the cheese, sausage and wine and we kicked back for about an hour eating, drinking and talking about the day, the dog's work, the possibilities and all of those things I had dreamed of since I was a lad.

There were two dogs, Captain, my big male Golden Retreiver and Andre had a small Llewellyn Setter whose name I have forgotten. The dogs lay in the tall grass by the side of the road. We had water and some treats for them, so they lay there exhausted from the morning's effort while we looked over the fields and built a fine memory of the day.

We did that several more years until 1982 when we moved from Racine to Sheboygan Falls, WI. I still went back once to join in the Thanksgiving hunt, but it was almost two hours from the Falls and just broke the day up too much. So I continued my own tradition by hunting out in the Kettle Moraine area with Captain scaring up an occasional Ruffed Grouse.

Andre and I spent many a lazy morning or afternoon hunting at Bong. We even cultivated a farmer nearby who let us hunt his property. Andre would take him a big smoked salmon every Christmas as an appreciation gift. The man owned 80 acres, but it actually gave us access to some larger property we kind of drifted onto. Wisconsin pheasant hunting is not like hunting in the big grain states like Illinois or the Dakotas. It is tough walking through tall marsh grass and hummocks of dried grass, but the effort makes each bird worth it.

I still try to take a long walk of some sort on Thanksgiving morning as a reminder of the pilgrims, their out door adventures and my own.