on the hunt

The first day of pheasant season


A fantastic sunrise of yellow, rose and gold
Gave way so slowly to a sky of deep blue.
A perfect day for our mem’ries to hold
As the breeze ruffled leaves of ev’ry hue.

The hunters kept coming by plane and by car
The motels and hotels were filled to the brim.
The shotguns and shells didn’t seem to go far
Even wives were there buying “ammo” for him.

They had all their hunting spots lined up with care.
Their dogs had been trained by the best to be found.
A sense of excitement permeated the air
As clock-watching hunters paced over the ground.

At last came the signal—the clock pointed to noon.
Oh Boy!! The long-awaited hour was here.
They could start in to hunt, not a moment too soon.
Everyone hoped it’d be better this year!

They walked up and down thru the fields of corn,
The excited dogs doing more than their share.
They stopped for coffee, they were weary and worn.
By now the strong wind dried the sweat in their hair.

After they’d rested, both the men and their dogs
With the warm afternoon sun on its way to the west
They started once more, first in ditches, then bogs,
And by sundown they’d all given their best.

But tho that day they’d given their all
The dejected men and their dogs left the scene.
They’d never admit it, but they wished they could bawl
For nary one bird had they seen!


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