Aging Effort

I am fortunate.

I still can hunt with my 88-year-old dad and some of his younger contemporaries. They add a lot to the camp and make the cover choices easier...as in they have to be familiar and clear(er) walking.

I have thirty-something sons and their friends who are budding upland and waterfowl hunters. They add a lot to camp and come up with cover choices I have to assess if I have the energy and imagination for.

I hunt with faces I know, with thirty-plus years of familiarity. They add a lot to camp, recounting stories from the beginning, and the willingness to hunt nostalgia and new covers.

Aging is very evident in what we do during this upland pursuit.

The covers seem to be the first tell, as it is easier to detect their age if they are past their prime, young in the making, or a blend of perfect edges and the appropriate size between flushes.

Covert names conjure up youthfulness at christening, steadfastness through consistent production, and the romance of past participants, two- and four-legged.

Speaking of aging, nothing says it more than our dogs. Best dog(s) of the season, new breeds, dogs in training, dogs with opinions, and opinions of each other's dogs. Time seems captured by the dogs we encounter on our time afield.

Smoking and joking seem to have aged as cigarettes have been displaced by a good fire; alcohol consumption is defined by the severity of the covers hunted, and the jokes are less personal... well, maybe not as personal.

All the guns are about aging. We talk about the guns, new or old, hand me downs or bargains, heavy or light, high tech or no tech. We love talking about our guns.

Ya gotta love the clothes, the telltale sign of the type of bird hunter you are (or were) and the era in which you started. Brush pants vs chaps, jeans vs retired work chinos, Orvis vs Bass Pro. Bird vest, jacket, or something found on Instagram.

Technology. Whistles, bells, beepers, long leads, e-collars, and GPS. OnX, Garmin, this, and Dogtra that. Honestly, I'm very thankful for all this technology, as nothing ages you more than stress. Those who have lost dogs in the woods, can't find their dog on point, got twisted up in a swamp, or came upon the wrong road understand stress.

Boots. Nothing lasts long enough to match this aging conversation... unless you hunt only on weekends.

Vehicles used to be a tell of aging, but you either have dogs or you don't.

This article's premise was to discuss the melding of the multiple stages of aging as reflected in my past, family-oriented hunting season. And I may get to that in a future article, but the "age" conversation took a turn when I started packing everything away for the next season.