I saw a partridge fly across the road in front of my vehicle today—not a mile from home—and land in some cover where one might expect a reasonable shot with a flush. My first thought was get the dogs and go after it. I would really enjoy working the dogs up on it. I wanted to relive the excitement and sport of out maneuvering it on its home turf. Assessing the situation a little further I asked myself if I really wanted to. The answer was a reluctant no. It is an answer I find myself giving more and more to things I dearly love to do.

I am at a point where past experiences tell me what the outcome of such a move would be. In all probability I would fumble it much to the dog’s disappointment and my own. I also know that if I pulled it off success could only be attributable to blind hog luck and I would find little joy in that.

I still love to hunt but have learned the hard way that doing so ethically requires considerable physical effort. My hunting efforts today are mere shadows of what they once were. I fortunately have found another way to continue my love affair with the sport of hunting. It is following the progress of my grandchildren who are on the cusp of perfecting their hunting skills. If I enjoyed the sport more when I was in my heyday than I do now following their awakenings I am certainly not aware of it.

I traipsed along with two of them and a mutual friend on a couple of pheasant hunts this fall and the results could not have been better. They got their limits and learned the importance of hunting game birds with trained dogs. Seeing one of the boy’s drop his first pheasant was indescribable. Watching the dogs and seeing first hand how indispensable they are was also a great pleasure.

I grew up in Oswego County just three miles from the Three Rivers Game Area where the National Pheasant Dog Championship was held. They released hundreds of birds just prior to the regular season which licensed hunters were allowed to hunt after the trials. The surrounding countryside at that time also abounded with wild birds. The hunting was excellent if you had good dogs. There were many more hunters at the time with dogs than there are today. Today pheasant hunting in New York is pretty much a put and take situation in that the birds are raised and released just prior to the season. They have been pen raised and planted so to speak. It all boils down similarly to hunting on a regulated game farm. Which in the case of pheasants is not at all unlike hunting wild reared birds?

Pheasants are inherently wild by nature and pen rearing does little to discourage those instincts. Pen raised birds still offer fair chase aspects that are every bit as challenging as their wild brethren. The boys and the dogs had no way of knowing anything about the experience being different from what I had at their age.

I am looking forward to spending a limited amount of time deer hunting with them this fall. It will not be in the traditional way that I once relished. I hunted the remote reaches of the Adirondacks by hunting out of a tent camp for usually weekends and one extended stay of at least a week. We will be spending a long weekend in a rustic cabin in Allegany County. The living will be much easier and the deer much more plentiful. It is a far cry from the type of hunting I prefer but my circumstances would make it nearly impossible for me to thoroughly enjoy the old way.

I was asked years ago by a reader friend to write about what old age really feels like. At the time I responded with my thoughts not realizing I knew little about what it means to be old. I thought that because I was retired that somehow made me old. I began this column in April of 1995 two years after formally retiring from my official day job. I started it as a lark to fill in the anticipated void retirement was bound to make in my life. I soon learned there would be no empty spaces to fill and I would have to hustle to keep up. I was 68 when I started cranking this column out and I am now 84.

I began this article with every intention of filling that request of telling what it’s like to be old. I feel that I will have to defer that column for a later date. I have too many obligations to complete before I will truly feel qualified for that assignment.