Just as every season begs a journey, every hunt must come to end. Bittersweet the emotions, but content the soul when now we turn for home.
It’s been a fine three days of upland glory at Deer Creek. Good dogs, good sport, good friends. A grand slam of birds, an epoch of autumn splendor, a notebook of memories that will not be diminished by the years.
There’s an honest, genuine passion at Deer Creek of what they’re about and what they wish to be. And it wears well. From the down-home earnestness of their South Georgia-style hospitality, to the 3,200 acres of lovely western Kentucky countryside that reflects the care and wisdom of their game management program, to the contemplated beauty of their shooting fields, these folks know wingshooting and what old-time bird hunting was all about.
When you couple that with a modern, elegant, and comfortably inviting 10,000-foot lodge of distinction and discriminating appointments, delicious and eclectic cuisine, the feeling of being outside though you’re in — its a package that exudes satisfaction and the blissful finish of “I’m glad I came.”
In the words of my old friend Festus Hagen of Gunsmoke notoriety, it’s the “soulsome” feeling of completion that you come to find, and “that there ain’t no rough edges on it.” And, most earnestly, the wistful notion that soon you must return.
Deer Creek offers something sterling and rare, and that kind of quality will always beckon.
Note: Look for the full magazine version of the Deer Creek story in an upcoming issue of Sporting Classics. If you have favored the drift and flavor of these daily reports, you will enjoy Mike Gaddis’ several fine books, all available in the Sporting Classics store.
Bob Timberlake drops a flushing bird.
The dogs of Deer Creek Lodge are second to none.
Bob Timberlake walks the fields at Deer Creek Lodge on the final day of the hunt.