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Being the youngest of three kids, I had a secret fear that now seems silly. My brother, sister, and I would watch game shows on Nickelodeon after school. These shows always had a grand prize of a trip to Orlando for a family of four. I may be the youngest, but I wasn’t stupid. If we ever won one of these shows, one of us was going to be left out. Our family of five would have to figure out a metric to leave one member at home while the others enjoyed Orlando. I was the last to show up, being the youngest. I always figured it would be me, the odd man out.

This random fear crept back into my mind this weekend while preparing for a dove hunt. The weather has been perfect for fast-flying birds and the retrievers that chase the birds who don’t fly fast enough. Our three dogs got a new pep in their step as the camo came out of storage. Spent shotgun hulls contained just enough gunpowder odor to start their tails wagging.

While I was worried about missing an Orlando trip as a kid, I can’t help but think the dogs know that one will miss the hunt. 

Hank, the eldest of the pack, has it in his mind that he can hunt. In reality, the weather needs to be even cooler than it is now to let him retrieve in the field. Hank, a 13-year-old yellow Lab, has the intensity of a Sunday driver with his retrieves. He will retrieve, but it won’t be quick, and he will probably need a nap after.

Sage, the thirteen-year-old Golden retriever, still has the physical stamina to make it through a dove hunt. His eyes have clouded with age, but he can hear the thud of the bird in the dirt and his nose is better than ever. Two weeks ago, he retrieved a limit of doves and our hunting neighbor’s beef jerky. Sage, though old, is always ready to go hunting.

Then there is Junior. At three years old, Junior’s retrieving abilities are present but limited. When Hank and Sage were young, I could put a kid in a carrier and take them to a field and practice retrieving. Now that our kids are older, normal training time is taken over by kids’ sports, programs, and, well, just life. We haven’t ruined Junior’s hunting ability; he just doesn’t have as many retrieves under his muzzle as the other two did at three.

I know what Junior was feeling when we were getting ready to hunt on Sunday. This trip was going to be a fun hunt for a family of four, and he, the odd dog, was going to be left out. As the clouds disappeared, the temperature started to rise. If it gets to eighty degrees, the old guys stay home. Just as we were about to get in the truck, the temperature read eighty-one. 

Today was Junior’s day. Junior was a joy to hunt with and found birds we would have never recovered. He got to go on his all-expense-paid dove hunt trip and didn’t get left. As you can see, he was one proud pup, and finally, the odd dog was in.