Here's a story I wrote about rabbit hunting and the lessons learned from my uncles two beagles. It's just the first draft and is titled "two little dogs". If you have the time check it out and I hope you like it.

Two little dogs

I sit in the front seat of my uncle’s pickup as the sun slowly casts long shadows across the meadows, welcoming a new October morning. Not much is spoken, and I can do nothing but concentrate on the all too familiar smell of my small game vest and the whimper of beagles in the back of the truck. Just these two senses alone is enough to remind me of the long days spent afield with family and friends, watching the dogs scramble through the brush like children on Easter morning. I just sit quietly sipping my coffee as my mind fades to years past and other mornings much like this one.
As much as I enjoy sitting with family reminiscing about hunts past, I know it’s finally time to make new memories. I slowly crawl from the truck and make my way to the back as I pull the leash from my pocket. As I open the tailgate I realize that the sharp howl that rings in my ears and the familiar smell of the dogs is a long awaited friend almost forgotten. The two dogs clamor at the pen door, fighting past one another just to be the first dog to break trail on the rabbits hiding in the brush. It is at this moment that I recognize that the passion of the hunt that I hold so dear pales in comparison to the true emotion that these two dogs put into every minute afield. As I open the pen door the two dogs thrust themselves to the ground. My uncle and I quickly leash the dogs and wait for the others to finish getting ready.
It isn’t long before everyone is loaded and we make our way to the first fence row and prepare to release the dogs. My arm strains as I attempt to hold back one of the beagles and begin to laugh at myself as I wonder who is actually in control of whom. Never before have I had something on the end of a leash with the heart of a bulldog, the nose of a hound and the tenacity of a terrier. It’s as if all I could ask for in a rabbit dog was dragging me across the field. I glance at my uncle just a few feet away as he yells over those long awaited words. I release the beagle and he lunges from my hands and tears through the brush as if years of passion have been stored up for this exact moment. At first I can do nothing but stare in amazement at the precision with which these dogs work together. Man has yet to make two machines that can operate so fluently when independent of one another, yet merge as one when the need arises. It isn’t long before that first howl breaks the morning silence and the two beagles tear away from us. I just stand there as their cries fade into the distance, and I am once again enveloped in silence.
As we wait for the return of the two hunters my uncle and I once again find ourselves reliving old memories. We stand there knowing full well that these brief moments together, though precious and few, are what really brings us to this same old fence row year after year. As I listen to him talk my mind takes me back as if I’m standing there once again. I can still see that same cock bird break from the briars with one of the beagles not far behind. The loud cackle followed by the shotgun blast still rings in my ears and the sharp smell of gunpowder fills my nose. We laugh at the thought of his beagle jumping a pheasant, and continue talking with one story paving the way for another.
It isn’t long before the sound of the dogs once again rings out across the field pulling me away from childhood memories. We all stand patiently waiting for the rabbit that is surely to be leading the hunters back. At this moment not a word is said, nor movement made. I just stand there fixated on a small opening in the briars waiting for him to appear. Within seconds the rabbit springs from the undergrowth and I quickly shoulder my gun and fire. The shotgun roars to life in my hands as all my senses take in everything around me. That one split second marks yet another memory that I’ll get to share in years to come. Once I lower my gun I can see that my shot was true and I await the arrival of the dogs as I hear them draw near. With rabbit in hand the two hunters make their way to me so that I can thank them for yet another successful hunt.
As I sit there petting the dogs I begin to understand why I am so thankful. It’s not because I have one more rabbit for the freezer, or because they worked so fiercely to bring it to me. In fact, it has nothing to do with the actual hunting of this great creature. It is then that I realize that it’s much bigger than that. Without these two little dogs, I wouldn’t have spent this day with family and friends sharing what little time we are given. Without these two little dogs, my uncle and I would never have made those voyages into old memories, and the new ones we’ll take back from this trip would never have been. Without these two little dogs, our lives would have taken different turns and lessons would have gone unlearned. I walked into these fields today nothing more than a man carrying a shotgun looking for one more rabbit for the freezer. Now, as we make our way across the meadow, I walk out a hunter… thanks to these two little dogs.