Who would have thought that a rooster pheasnt would create such an impression. I read John Annoni's book, "From the Hood to the Woods," while on the train traveling from NYC to CT. If you take Metro North from Grand Central Station, the train stops at 125th Street in Harlem, and then off to points in CT. At the Harlem stop, which has become re-gentrified since I first lived in NYC, reminded me of the importance of Annoni's work, which he outlines in his book. It was as if I had sat down with him at a diner and over a cup of coffee he explained his awful childhood. He ran away from his worries to the woods outside the apartment complex where his mom lived. It was there that nature helped him endure his lot and where he found a love for hunting and fishing. I won't tell his whole story but the important part you should know is the work he does with inner city kids. He created a program for kids that uses fishing and hunting to help build responsibility and self esteem. And it gets many kids out in open spaces. His program is a registered non-profit operating out of PA. Go to
Camp Compass Academy and check out the work he does. He has been recognized by
SCI and was named one of the
most influential people of the outdoors in 2009 by OL. If you can't take a kid hunting--your nephews nieces, sons and daughters don't count--then send a check or donate something to Camp Compass Academy so Annoni can keep up the good work.
There is an expression in NASCAR racing called “trading paint.” With my two GSPs I would slightly modify it to “trading fur.” If you read this blog you know that Bella, Cooper (Coop for short) and I regularly hike one of the land trust parcels in our town. The idea is not so much to teach or reinforce hunting technique but more to burn off the excess energy these two have. A borough of New York City could run off the energy from these two. Part of their land trust ritual is to sit and stay at the entrance of the hiking trail. They whine and fidget until I motion them to go or give two quick blasts from the whistle. I always make sure there are no unsuspecting hikers before I give the signal since the trail is as wide as a runway model’s hips and I’d hate to see two German Shorthairs plowing into a neighbor or the town selectman. Paw prints usually don’t leave a permanent mark but I fear some poor unsuspecting nature lover would be tattooed by these two. Bella and Coop are so competitive that they race each other down the path of the open bowl and blast their way into the hardwood canopy. 
By the time I’m half way through the bowl, they are looping back to see me. I think they are afraid I might get lost. Then they bolt right back out under the hardwood canopy zig-zagging across the trail. I smile to think of bushed, resting dogs when we return home. I’m unsure when the gash on Coop happened. Not a whine, whimper or peep from him the entire hike which is a few miles. Ms. Deborah noticed the cut as she toweled them off and checked for ticks. Eleven stitches later the vet recommended no land trust hikes for two weeks. Ever try keeping a GSP quiet and calm for two weeks? I could solve the recession and economic woes of our country easier. Is it two weeks yet?
