"German Shorthaired Pointers since 1974"

UP THE CREEK

By

Ken M. Blomberg

       It’s a fine spot to live, this place we call “Reality”.    Our home, the land and the creek lie along the Wisconsin River valley.  The house has been occupied since before the Great Depression and our family has called it home since the late seventies.  In that house, the “boss” and I have raised a pair of boys, a kennel full of bird dogs and a  wide variety of other critters.  

     The “boss” inherited her piece of “Reality” after telling me, the priest and the world “I do”.   At the time, the thought of living in a four-room bungalow, thirty miles from the school at which she taught wasn't high on her list of priorities.  On top of that, she had to share her new home with three bird dogs.  Today, she assures me that living in the country suits her just fine.  After all, if she wasn't here, who would feed her birds?

     The creek is the lifeblood of the land.  Before the land was settled it served to control the water table, which it continues to do.  It bisects our property after draining the neighbor’s woods and farm field.  Three-quarters of a mile in length, it drains into a backwater slough that eventually empties into the Wisconsin River.

     We share our space with a variety of wildlife, including white-tailed deer, turkey, bear, grouse, woodcock, rabbit, squirrel, as well as non-game song birds, owls, hawks and bald eagles.  It was a bald eagle that clinched the deal a couple of decades ago, as I was looking over the neighborhood and the house we later purchased.   It was along River Road that I spotted that majestic bird soaring above the river valley.  I called the realtor and told her to close on the fifty year-old cheese maker's house that very same day.

     Over the years, our kennel has housed scores of bird dogs, including breeding stock, dogs and puppies for sale, boarders and those to be trained.  German Shorthaired Pointer has been our breed of choice, after falling in love with the first true bird dog I owned, "Buck".   He came to me from a small game farm near Shawano named Kentwood and taught me more about hunting game birds than I taught him about being a good bird dog.  He stayed with us for two months and fourteen days short of 16 years. 

     Buck's buried down by the creek, but his ghost still runs in the uplands behind the house.   The shorthairs we own today are related to Buck, whose blood runs through their veins.  The bloodlines of our bird dogs own the name of our township and a nearby river, called Eau Pleine.  While many dogs from the past are buried along the creek, a new generation fills the kennel today.

     This is an ongoing story of our home, the land, the creek and the thoughts that come to mind as we share a place we call "Reality".