Going four-for-four

I was just getting comfortable with being a teenager, had earned my driver's license, was very nervous when talking to girls – and I was scared about what I had to do the next day. Christmas had fallen on Saturday that year and school was scheduled to remain dismissed until after the New Year celebration. I'd been struggling with a badly sprained ankle earned while playing football in September and; unfortunately, a continuing limp and nagging pain forced a follow-up examination. Seems that the ankle had an unseen fracture which gradually separated then healed poorly, now requiring surgery. It was the quiet Monday following Christmas. Most of my friends were at sledding or skating parties or just hanging out like most teens of our time. I just didn't feel like company. My mind was preoccupied with thoughts of the upcoming operation which was scheduled for the following morning. A silent fear of the unknown had taken hold, but a stoicism I'd learned during younger years kept me from talking about it. I'd mentioned my upcoming hospital visit to one good friend – I just skipped the scared part. Still, I was afraid of how it might go, what might have to be done, future abilities for sports, and how much it was going to hurt. I suppose that's all normal. Unfortunately, I just found it hard discuss it. The only person I'd felt comfortable talking to about "stuff" like this was gone and I was left to flounder in thought. So, on this snow-covered post-Christmas day I came up with a plan to escape my worries – at least for a while. I grabbed my 20-gauge double, leashed my beagle Gretch, and headed out to go hunting. I parked our family car down a familiar farm lane along an old fenceline. I turned Gretch lose and began to follow her lead. She knew more about pheasants and rabbits than I probably ever would, so she was my guide that day – just as she'd been for the last three years. The temperature hovered a little below freezing but the sun was brilliant. It gave the feeling of warmth which belied the thermometer. Keeping an old leather glove on my left hand, I used it to push aside the multitude of thorn-covered berry vines and the seemingly indestructible multi-flora rose that Gretch would push under, around and through. I'd occasionally lose sight of her, but she'd taught herself to stay close which made those interludes brief. After an hour or so, my ankle was throbbing with that dull familiar pain I'd been tolerating for months. As we pushed to the end of another thicket, we entered the remnants of an over-grown pasture. Near its center, there was a sandy wallow next to a narrow creek the cows once enjoyed laying. Beside it was a pile of large rocks that had been pushed there when the land was first cleared. I headed over in the hope of giving Gretch an opportunity for a drink. As we approached the creek, Gretch broke from my side and began a dash toward some standing cattails. My first thought was that she'd spotted a day-wandering raccoon and that a fight was about to start. I began to jog in that direction when a rooster pheasant broke into flight, the dog snapping at its long tailfeathers. I swung the double and my finger reflexively triggered a load of six-shot that intersected the bird's flight. It fell and Gretch stood over it doing her version of a congratulatory polka. I picked up the bird and walked back toward the wallow as Gretch danced by my side, hopping against my leg as she tried to get a sniff of her treasure. I was tucking it into my vest just as I made it to that pile of rocks and the creek. A quick kick down and the spring-fed water gurgled as it pushed its way around the broken ice. Gretch was soon greedily lapping. I decided – or my ankle decided – that I needed a short brake. I chose a big flat-topped rock to sit upon and was surprised that it was warm to the touch. Its black coloration had been soaking up the mid-day sun and it was now offering that heat to me. A look around found another dark-colored stone that could serve as a backrest. I leaned the Ithaca against a spindly Osage orange tree then settled in for a rest. The pheasant formed an uncomfortable lump against my back so I pulled it from the game bag. I held the bird in my hands and began to examine its brilliant bronzes, blues and greens. I soon had Gretch standing against the rock to give her own respects to the fallen game bird. I set the bird out-of-reach, and began to pet Gretch. I soon found myself telling her about the surgery, and that I was a little frightened at the prospect. Her intelligent brown eyes watched as I spoke and I'll admit that a tear stained my cheek. She unexpectedly backed up a bit and made a running jump for me, falling short in the attempt. I caught her and she quickly wriggled her way underneath my arm and onto an unused section of the radiant rock, laying her head on my thigh. We sat there until the sun had left its apex to continue its trek toward the western horizon; nearby trees casting shadows and robbing us of the warming sunshine. We got up and shared a stretch, then began our walk back toward the car. Gretch was coursing ahead – left to right, then right to left – inspecting every piece of brush or hide. Still mid-afternoon, we were getting close to the car and the short ride home. Gretch suddenly put on the brakes and came to a quivering stillness. That lasted a long time for a beagle – probably a full two-seconds – then she broke into a run. She'd discovered a covey of quail scurrying for cover and her mad rush sent them flying in all directions. The double barked twice and two birds fell. I was three-for-three – a good day. We got back to the car and I was careful to make sure the old blanket covered the seat for Gretch to lay on. Leaving, I decided this good dog needed a treat. I detoured to a local town that had a Dairy Queen that a lot of my friends frequented. I also knew one of the teenage girls that worked there – another reason for the stop. I also knew that she really liked dogs and that she would pass me a "dropped" hotdog just for Gretchen. I pulled away from the DQ's window and found a parking space so that Gretch and I could enjoy our hotdogs. That's when I spotted that young lady walking out of the restaurant and heading in my direction. I rolled down the window and she leaned in and gave Gretch a scratch. She looked at me and said, "I heard you need to have your ankle operated on. That's tomorrow, right?" "Yeah," I said. "I don't think it's going to be any big deal." She gave me a quizzical look. "Well, I think it's a big deal. Do you mind if I stop at the hospital to see you?" Fortunately, Gretch had nosed my arm out of the way and was in my lap, distracting the girl from seeing my surprised confusion. "Sure, if you want," I stammered. She smiled, gave the grinning dog a kiss on top of its head, smiled at me, then walked away – turning for one more smile and a little wave. Providence sure has a round-about way of telling you everything's going to be alright. I guess I went four-for-four – a great day. Christmas wishes do come true. "Do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Let the day's own trouble be sufficient for the day." – Matthew 6:34 Along the Way Applications are being accepted until Sunday, Jan. 11, 2026, for the next Ohio Wildlife Officer training school. The Division of Wildlife is seeking to fill up to 12 wildlife officer positions throughout Ohio, with training for new wildlife officer cadets begins scheduled to begin in August. Ohio wildlife officers enforce wildlife regulations and protect public lands, waterways, and fish and wildlife resources. Officers serve from Lake Erie to the Ohio River and in every Ohio county, supporting the mission of the Division of Wildlife. This is the Division of Wildlife's 33rd Wildlife Officer Training Academy since 1951. To be considered for the wildlife officer training school, applicants are required to be 21 years of age upon completion of the Ohio Peace Officer Basic Training Course, be a U.S. citizen, and possess a valid driver license. Completion of at least a minimum of core course work in an associate degree or undergraduate program in natural resources, fisheries and wildlife conservation, natural sciences, biology, criminal justice, environmental law enforcement, agriculture, or a related field is required. Eighteen months of training or experience in the above fields may also be acceptable, or 18 months of training or experience in the U.S. military with an occupational specialty related to law enforcement, investigations, or intelligence. Other qualifications include meeting physical fitness standards, completing a background check, and passing a psychological exam, medical exam, and drug screening. For more information about becoming an Ohio wildlife officer, visit www.ohiodnr.gov/becomeawildlifeofficer. You can complete an application at www.careers.ohio.gov. Step Outside: • Today - Tomorrow: Last Chance - Ohio Statewide Deer Gun Season. • Jan. 3-6: Ohio's Statewide Primitive Weapons Deer Season. • Jan. 4: Primitive Blackpowder Muzzle Loader Shoot, round ball only, 1 p.m. Black Swamp Muzzle Loaders Club, 8831 Township Rd. 19, McComb. Email: roadkill4u@hotmail.com • Jan. 4: Trap Shoot, 1 p.m. Mount Blanchard Gun Club, 21655 Delaware Township 186. Abrams is a retired wildlife officer supervisor for the state Division of Wildlife in Findlay. He can be reached at P.O. Box 413, Mount Blanchard, OH 45867-0413 or via e-mail at jimsfieldnotes@aol.com.