William Leslie: May 23, 1943 – August 27, 2010

Sometimes even the expected is still unexpected.

The delivery of a child, for nine months you know it’s coming, but when your wife looks at you and says; “honey, its time.” You’re never really prepared.

Drifting bait along a sandbar for hours on end – slowly you are lulled into daydreaming. Then the bite comes. Startling you out of your stupor – yes you were fishing, but the bite was still unexpected.

Crawling to the top of the ridge, peeking over again hoping this will be the one. Ridge after ridge, valley after valley you walk, search and hoping. Then without warning, from thirty yards he steps from behind a spruce tree standing there in all his magnificence.

Following your Brittany through a CRP, watching as his tail comes to a halt, his nose to the ground......moving in the flush so close to your boot catches you off guard.

Sitting at a ball game watching your son play, caught up in the joy of his shinning moment. An email alerts you that a dear friend has passed on; unexpected

Human beings are good at avoiding the things we know we can’t change. We know all of us will leave this earth; some of us have had to face that reality too many times, and far too often. Still, while we know this reality is coming, when it happens - it is unexpected.

A few weeks ago, we all received some bad news when Bill told us his diagnosis. At the hearing of the news, we felt a hole beginning to grow in our hearts, a sadness for the unexpected. A void was being created for which we can never fully heal. And while we knew that the prognosis wasn’t good, we never expected this day to be here so soon. To some, this void in our heart is a bad thing, for us on this day, it’s a glorious thing. Because for us, the hole is filled with memories of a man we all loved deeply.

Someone once asked; “Is a legend made by the way you live your life, or the way you’re remembered after you are gone?”

I’m not sure as I write this that I know the answer to that question, but one thing I do know, is that for many people, Bill Leslie was a legend in his time, and will remain a legend long after he is gone. For me, and for all those who shared a moose camp, deer camp, sheep hunt, or whatever you were after, you saw one of the best at their craft.

In all of my years of hunting, all over this country with a lot of different people, one thing I know is that it is rare to find someone who shares your passion and approach to this fine sport. Bill and I had that connection. We didn’t talk about it much, but we both knew it. When we hunted together we didn’t have to say a lot to one another, we knew what the other was thinking, what they were seeing, and feeling. I knew that he knew what was going on. That was and remains a rarity in our sport, and in our lives.

For the men and women who hunt this Gakona valley for years to come, stories will be told. Stories about a pot bellied bald headed man who called this ole place home for over 35 years. This valley was more Bills home that his house in North Pole – here is where he felt free, where he felt alive. Sitting in this expanse of nothingness where many find seclusion, Bill found fulfillment and joy.

Most people will spend their lives searching for the peace and joy Bill found each time he rode along this track to this trailer. I saw it the first time I rode out here with him. Standing on the side of the track rig for three hours as we plodded along this path, I saw someone who loved this place with a passion seldom seen. When we crested the ridge with the valley lying below, a sigh came from his chest, and his eyes lit up like a groom seeing his bride for the first time. I didn’t know why then, but I would learn in the coming weeks we spent together why. This was his sanctuary.

It is fitting that we are spreading his ashes here, at this place, and at this time. This was his favorite place and his favorite time of year. As the seasons change, and the leaves turn vibrant colors reminding us of God’s glory and majesty; we too are changed, and our lives turn and we stand here and remember. The void we feel in our heart may not ever heal, the emptiness will linger for some of us for the rest of our lives, and that’s ok. Each time we crest this hill and stare into this valley we will remember Bill Leslie. We will honor his life, his legacy and we will know once again, that we are all better people for having known him.

Stories will remain as one generation passes onto another, laughter will be heard around the campfire as another story is told, hot links are eaten and someone shares a moment in time. That for them has become an eternal flame in their memory of Bill. Because we know, that while we expected one day to be here doing this for our friend, his lasting impact on our lives and hearts was unexpected.

So I raise a glass to my friend, Bill Leslie, may you rest in peace, and may I always remember – my dear friend, may I always remember. . . . . . . . .

The Perfect Hunting Dog

I have come to a crossroads as a sportsman. It is time for me, at this stage to get a new hunting dog. Therein lays perhaps the single most important decision a sportsman can make in their career afield. This choice will impact your time afield more than just about any other we make as ourdoorsmen and women. Years of frustration or joy hinge on this decision. So I tread lightly into this verdict and take a methodical approach to the process.

I’m not certain what it takes to buy a dog, other than money. I have read the advice from the professionals who offer; first ask yourself; “What do you want your dog to do?” What kind of question is that? “What ever I train her to do.” That’s what I want her to do. And notice I said, her, because I am convinced that males of dogs or dogs of dogs – whatever we call them nowadays - can only be trained to a certain level. After they reach that level, (and it varies from dog to dog), they cannot be trained any further. No amount of switching or coaxing, feeding, bribing will get the male to go any further in his training. So I will stay with a female. In reality, I am only considering dogs that have a tradition of being bred to perform certain tasks related to hunting. All hunting breeds can be trained to retrieve, and flush to some extent. Most can be trained to do some form of pointing. After that it is only a matter of preference, temperament, size, color, pedigree, location, and of course cost.

I have been studying breed books for months. I have looked at pictures and attended field trials. I have talked with owners and handlers who love their breeds and I have spoken with those who haven’t been very successful with breeds. And through this intensive research I have narrowed it down between the retrieving breeds, the pointing breeds and the flushing breeds. Which, mind you, is exactly where I started.

I know from the onset that I don’t want a Labrador because of their popularity, and quite frankly, I just don’t want a dog that everyone else on the block has. Not to mention their destructive behavior during their puppy years; which for some lasts until they are dead. So in the retrieving breeds, I am looking at the Chesapeake, the Portuguese water dog, the curly coated retriever, the Irish water spaniel and the Boykin Spaniel.

Within the pointing breeds, of which there are many fine strains, I like the English Setter, (for nostalgia reasons) the wirehaired pointer, and the German Shorthair. When we move to the flushing breeds; we find the English Springer Spaniel, the Boykin Spaniel, (again) and the Brittany Spaniel top my list. I would never consider a cocker, or King Charles spaniel, or even the Clumber spaniel, does it really make sense to have a hunting dog that is a clumber? Just his name spells disaster in the field.

Of those listed above…..I quickly eliminated the Portuguese Water Dog for financial and political reasons…..they are simply too expensive, and they are a democrat’s dog. No self respecting republican would ever cut their dogs hair that way so they must be a democrat’s dog. And I want my dog to be my friend, and if we can’t discuss politics and agree from time to time, there is no reason to own one. Next, I have eliminated the Wirehaired because my wife thinks it is ugly and the Brittany because one of my best friends has one and I don’t want the same type of dog he has. So the list shortens even more and I get to the real important questions I have to ask before I can move on.

When it really comes down to it, there are 3 basic criteria that are the deal breakers and my new dog must meet all three.

1. Looks of the Breed. If it’s ugly – I don’t want it.

2. Size of the dog. I don’t want a dog I can’t carry out of the woods or field. So anything over 50 pounds is immediately eliminated.

3. Temperament of the breed. Is she going to be easy to train and a good companion. (like your children before they reach the teenzilla stage)

So with this in mind we eliminate even more breeds. Gone is the English Setter ---- females are at the breakeven point in weight and no female alive will ever be honest with their weight. And if I can’t trust her, she can’t be around! Who knows she might be pointing one day and I move in expecting a covey rise and a cottontail bursts from the cover.

Gone is the Chesapeake…well over 100 pounds. If I tried to carry that animal out of the woods, search and rescue would have to identify both of us. Gone is the Curly Coated Retriever….just too big and they look like Dr. J. from the 1970’s! Gone is the German Shorthaired…looks dirty all the time and a little leggy for my liking. Gone are the spaniels with the strange names, cocker, king charles and clumber……..I just could never look my hunting companions in the eye if I told them I just bought a cocker spaniel –or a Clumber spaniel. It just wouldn’t be right.

That brings me to the Boykin and the Springer – both spaniels. It is these two that are the finalist….along with the Irish water dog…but this is so similar to the Boykin that the Boykin has to get the nod because he’s our state dog.

Springer and Boykin the two breeds that have passed the tests thus far. Both are the right size, both have the temperament needed for a combination lap/hunting/companion dog. Both have beautiful markings and wavy coats. (Something I am partial to) I love the copper wavy coat of the Boykin and the Black and white (or liver and white) patches of the Springer. I love the long ears, and cropped tails.

So now that we have narrowed it down to these two….let us look at them in detail (from my perspective of detail) and make the decision once and for all.

The English Springer, has a great nose, they are known to be much calmer than the Boykin at an early age….but bred more for the show ring than the field. She can be trained to readily retrieve on land and water. Takes commands well and is a fast learner. When a field line can be found they are usually well bred. But there is the slight fear of “Springer fever” a temperament that causes them to sometimes be somewhat unpredictable. Still all in all a good choice.

The Boykin was designed to “not rock the boat” is a wonderful waterfowl retriever. They are great companions, and they have a great nose. Many are taught to flush upland birds and retrieve in fields as well. They do have the reputation of being somewhat high strung as young puppies. Then they are considered to be one of the best companion dogs alive.

So with all else being comparable it comes down to availability and price. The Boykin can be found for a modest price. And the Springer just about half again as much. Here in South Carolina, Boykin’s are readily available, while the Field line of the Springer is less available.

But in my gut, I am drawn to the Boykin. When I first saw a young Boykin with that copper wavy coat I immediately fell in love with the animal and have decided that the Boykin is the perfect hunting dog.

I have now begun the tedious process of selecting a name for my copper colored wavy haired Boykin female. After much deliberation, I have decided to name the dog after one of my closest friends and closest hunting companions. The name Walter doesn’t fit a female Boykin. But she doesn’t know that. She doesn’t know that Walter is not a fine name for a beautiful Boykin girl – so barring a protest from her therapist, Walter it is.

So stay tuned and get ready to join me as we share in the trials, tribulations and tales of Walter, my new female Boykin as we cover the fields, forest and water in the years to come.