R.M.

No, that's not the one. The one I'm talking about talks about the old dog not being able to hear the hunting horn. Being too old to join in the chase, and spending it's time in front of the fire, if my memory serves me right. It's that last line that gets to me. Thanks for looking. R.M.

Hi All My name is Bob (Robert) or R.M. and I'm in my mid 50's. I am a Canadian, living in Colorado now for 10 years. I love to hunt big game, with black powder these days. Back in Canada I hunted a lot of pheasants and ducks with my 2 Springers. I have shot for Canada on their national team, but not for the last couple of years. Black Powder shooting has gotten my interest these days, the traditional type. Cheers

About 15 years ago I ran across a poem in a Gundog mag that just plain moved me. So much so that I printed it out on my then high tech computer, a 286. I framed it and hung it in my hunting cabin up in Canada. Well, the cabin burnt down, and for the life of me I can not find the poem again. I had it in my head that the author was Elizabeth Barrett Browning. The story-line is about an old dog that's too old to hunt anymore. There's a reference about a shrill hunting horn, and the last line that just gets me "For you were the only God I knew". Now I'm not a poetry nut by ant means, but this d