The
snow went, but never quite all the way. On the north sides of the hills and
hidden in the shadows of the softwood stands it lingered for what seemed like eternity.
Bare fields waited for the robins and on walks in the woods the dogs searched
for woodcock. Early in the mornings and late in the day grouse drummed in the
woods above the house.
In
a drainage ditch next to a logging road, which leads into an enormous
wilderness valley, a woodcock fluttered up in front of the pup’s nose. It was the
first of the year and the first of the young dog’s life!
Spring
would come after all. On the way home a hundred robins rested in a pasture that
hadn’t yet greened. For the next couple weeks the girls would hunt hard.
One
day a sudden snow blanketed the garden, then left as fast as it came. Down by
the brook, in the murky shade of spruce and firs, frozen puddles refused to
leave and refrigerated air. Across the stream a grouse drummed a challenge to
the one on the hill. The water was cold and high and trout fishing would wait.
At night the coyotes howled.
On
a sunny afternoon walk, well up on a hill in a deserted field, a stand of
maples no bigger than my wrist beckoned. Coaxing the dogs over, the seven year
old wirehair locked up on point where the grass met the young trees. Rushing
ahead with her camera, my daughter hoped to spot the woodcock in front of the
dog, but the bird spiraled up from beneath her feet, leaving its nest behind.
Three eggs waited for her return. The dogs would spend less time in the woods
for the next few months.
Now
it’s early May. The grouse still drum. Streams are still too cold and a quarter
of the way through the month snow mixes with a cold downpour. It’s time to
train the pup and get the garden ready for warmer days.