Post by pappy on Aug 11, 2005 8:12:02 GMT -5
An old man and his hounds.
The predawn sky was black as pitch except for the billions of twinkling stars.The air was fresh from dampness of a recent rain with a light cool breeze blowing from the North.All was quiet except for the usual night sounds of insects,frogs croaking in the distance,the occassional calling of a whipporwill.Four objects moved along a faint unused trail that led through a thick tangle of brush,making little noise though the trail was narrow and nearly overgrown.
The four objects paused momentarily,then suddenly three of the objects moved away quickly while the one continued on along the path slowly.The night air suddenly exploded with sound that seemed to come from the tightly knitted group of the trio.The night sounds suddenly stilled as though trying to determine if the trio possed a threat.As the pinkish glow in the East announced the soon arrival of the breaking of day,the trio could be faintly seen and determined to be a pack of Beagles.A short distance ahead of them could also be determined a cottontail rabbit scampering along through the cover of the heavy brush,apparently unconcerned from the loud noise of the pack.The tenor bawl mixed in with a loud clear chop in perfect harmony with a hair raising squall described the three mouths of the pack as they began to steadily unravel the track laid down by the mischevious rabbit.It was ample reason to pause the movement of the fourth object,an old man along in years but still young at heart.The sounds of his devoted pack produced a contented feeling in his soul that never ceased to comfort him yet sent a rush of adrenline rushing through his veins.
As the pack moved off in the distance the man was forced to amble along down the path as his hearing wasn't what it used to be and he had to stay closer to the pack to hear the beautiful music that he never tired of.The smooth presision of the pack moved forward at a rapid pace,much like the swift,smooth ride of a feather on water of a rushing stream,never faultering..never making a bobble...just floating forward with only their trail cries pointing the way of the game they persued.
The old man fell behind and the pack cries faded off in the distance.He wasn't worried as he knew the track would circle back in his direction before long.He continued along the path slowly,both ears tuned for the slightest sound of his beloved pack that would let him know they were headed back.A fork in the trail caused him to pause momentarily as he made the decision of whether to go right or left.The faint far off cry from a squall mouth made that decision for him and he continued on down the trail to the right.Shortly the brush along the trail began to open up slowly into a more open type terrain until finally it became a small meadow of rich green grass.He paused again to take in the view of the meadow and was surprised to see an old log cabin at the farther end up against the base of the brush.Covered in vines,door and window shutters sagging with age,a roof that was all but gone in places told the story of long abandonment.Making his way across the meadow he came to rest in what was once a yard in front of the cabin and seated himself on an old seasoned stump that had evidently been positioned to provide a resting place for someone that had occupied the cabin long before.In his mind's eye he could vission youngsters romping and shouting in the front yard and a smile stretched the weary old lines around his mouth and eyes.
He was momentarily distracted from his thoughts as the cries from his pack came roaring back within his hearing.The same easy,smooth almost flawless progress of the pack brought a different kind of smile to the worn wrinkles and a satisfied sigh from within escaped across his lips.Old eyes that had lost some of their sharpness,were on the alert as they scanned back and forth along the line of brush in anticipation of spotting a flash of brown that would be the quary his hounds persued.A sad shake of the head that failed to disrupt the smile told the story that he had missed seeing the rabbit as the beagles came crashing out of the brush one behind the other and turning parallel to the brush line.Everything stood still as he listened to the music of the trailing hounds as they faded slowly out of his hearing again.As he waited their return his thoughts again returned to the old cabin,wondering what kind of folks had lived in this remote area,what hardships had they encountered,what pleasures of life had brightened their load, what had happened to them.He got up to stretch the aching muscles in his back and walked around to the rear of the cabin.On the back porch lay a little wooden doll with a broken arm,so his mind's eye hadn't been wrong when he saw youngsters romping in the front yard.The outbuildings had long ago fallen and now lay in a heap of warped,rotted logs,not much left except for a little wooden cross sticking out of the ground a short distance from one of the old buildings.He walked over to it,carrying the broken doll absently in one hand.The name Shep had been carved roughly but deeply in the cross arm of the grave marker and he guessed it must have been a dog.As he started to leave he glanced down and saw a stone marker of another grave that had fallen over on the ground.It read "My Son Bobby" there were no dates on the stone and the old man wondered how old the boy might have been.He took the time to stand the marker upright and seat it firmly in the ground.As he turned away from the graves his ears picked up the sound of the pack circling back into the meadow,filling the little open glade with ringing chops,long bawls and high pitched squalls as the rabbit came charging around the corner of the old cabin,right past the old man,and took refuge under a pile of the old rotted logs of one of the delapadated outbuildings.No sooner had it disappeared under the logs when the little hounds rounded the corner and came to the end of the track.He called the pack to him and rewarded them with a loving pat on each head and turned to leave,pausing long enough to lay the little broken doll on a weathered window sill.As he and his beagles were leaving the meadow he turned to say "Hope I didn't disturb you lad,hope you enjoyed listening to the music of my little hounds." He couldn't help but wonder if Shep might have been a beagle also.As he faded into the brush he heard a gentle,soft moan come from the cabin.Probably just the moan of old wood as the door or window shutter moved against the wind.Maybe it was Bobby asking him to come again and since there was no wind he preferred to believe the latter and paused to lift a hand in farewell.
The older I get the more I think back on some of the journeys I've been on and the trials I have followed and where they have led me.I always wonder about the folks that trod those paths before me and wonder what kind of lives they lived,what hardships they suffered and what joys they cherished.Then I get to thinking I can write about it but it's hard to put in words one's feelings.
The predawn sky was black as pitch except for the billions of twinkling stars.The air was fresh from dampness of a recent rain with a light cool breeze blowing from the North.All was quiet except for the usual night sounds of insects,frogs croaking in the distance,the occassional calling of a whipporwill.Four objects moved along a faint unused trail that led through a thick tangle of brush,making little noise though the trail was narrow and nearly overgrown.
The four objects paused momentarily,then suddenly three of the objects moved away quickly while the one continued on along the path slowly.The night air suddenly exploded with sound that seemed to come from the tightly knitted group of the trio.The night sounds suddenly stilled as though trying to determine if the trio possed a threat.As the pinkish glow in the East announced the soon arrival of the breaking of day,the trio could be faintly seen and determined to be a pack of Beagles.A short distance ahead of them could also be determined a cottontail rabbit scampering along through the cover of the heavy brush,apparently unconcerned from the loud noise of the pack.The tenor bawl mixed in with a loud clear chop in perfect harmony with a hair raising squall described the three mouths of the pack as they began to steadily unravel the track laid down by the mischevious rabbit.It was ample reason to pause the movement of the fourth object,an old man along in years but still young at heart.The sounds of his devoted pack produced a contented feeling in his soul that never ceased to comfort him yet sent a rush of adrenline rushing through his veins.
As the pack moved off in the distance the man was forced to amble along down the path as his hearing wasn't what it used to be and he had to stay closer to the pack to hear the beautiful music that he never tired of.The smooth presision of the pack moved forward at a rapid pace,much like the swift,smooth ride of a feather on water of a rushing stream,never faultering..never making a bobble...just floating forward with only their trail cries pointing the way of the game they persued.
The old man fell behind and the pack cries faded off in the distance.He wasn't worried as he knew the track would circle back in his direction before long.He continued along the path slowly,both ears tuned for the slightest sound of his beloved pack that would let him know they were headed back.A fork in the trail caused him to pause momentarily as he made the decision of whether to go right or left.The faint far off cry from a squall mouth made that decision for him and he continued on down the trail to the right.Shortly the brush along the trail began to open up slowly into a more open type terrain until finally it became a small meadow of rich green grass.He paused again to take in the view of the meadow and was surprised to see an old log cabin at the farther end up against the base of the brush.Covered in vines,door and window shutters sagging with age,a roof that was all but gone in places told the story of long abandonment.Making his way across the meadow he came to rest in what was once a yard in front of the cabin and seated himself on an old seasoned stump that had evidently been positioned to provide a resting place for someone that had occupied the cabin long before.In his mind's eye he could vission youngsters romping and shouting in the front yard and a smile stretched the weary old lines around his mouth and eyes.
He was momentarily distracted from his thoughts as the cries from his pack came roaring back within his hearing.The same easy,smooth almost flawless progress of the pack brought a different kind of smile to the worn wrinkles and a satisfied sigh from within escaped across his lips.Old eyes that had lost some of their sharpness,were on the alert as they scanned back and forth along the line of brush in anticipation of spotting a flash of brown that would be the quary his hounds persued.A sad shake of the head that failed to disrupt the smile told the story that he had missed seeing the rabbit as the beagles came crashing out of the brush one behind the other and turning parallel to the brush line.Everything stood still as he listened to the music of the trailing hounds as they faded slowly out of his hearing again.As he waited their return his thoughts again returned to the old cabin,wondering what kind of folks had lived in this remote area,what hardships had they encountered,what pleasures of life had brightened their load, what had happened to them.He got up to stretch the aching muscles in his back and walked around to the rear of the cabin.On the back porch lay a little wooden doll with a broken arm,so his mind's eye hadn't been wrong when he saw youngsters romping in the front yard.The outbuildings had long ago fallen and now lay in a heap of warped,rotted logs,not much left except for a little wooden cross sticking out of the ground a short distance from one of the old buildings.He walked over to it,carrying the broken doll absently in one hand.The name Shep had been carved roughly but deeply in the cross arm of the grave marker and he guessed it must have been a dog.As he started to leave he glanced down and saw a stone marker of another grave that had fallen over on the ground.It read "My Son Bobby" there were no dates on the stone and the old man wondered how old the boy might have been.He took the time to stand the marker upright and seat it firmly in the ground.As he turned away from the graves his ears picked up the sound of the pack circling back into the meadow,filling the little open glade with ringing chops,long bawls and high pitched squalls as the rabbit came charging around the corner of the old cabin,right past the old man,and took refuge under a pile of the old rotted logs of one of the delapadated outbuildings.No sooner had it disappeared under the logs when the little hounds rounded the corner and came to the end of the track.He called the pack to him and rewarded them with a loving pat on each head and turned to leave,pausing long enough to lay the little broken doll on a weathered window sill.As he and his beagles were leaving the meadow he turned to say "Hope I didn't disturb you lad,hope you enjoyed listening to the music of my little hounds." He couldn't help but wonder if Shep might have been a beagle also.As he faded into the brush he heard a gentle,soft moan come from the cabin.Probably just the moan of old wood as the door or window shutter moved against the wind.Maybe it was Bobby asking him to come again and since there was no wind he preferred to believe the latter and paused to lift a hand in farewell.
The older I get the more I think back on some of the journeys I've been on and the trials I have followed and where they have led me.I always wonder about the folks that trod those paths before me and wonder what kind of lives they lived,what hardships they suffered and what joys they cherished.Then I get to thinking I can write about it but it's hard to put in words one's feelings.