November, pheasants, coffee and good friends.

November is special, no other month brings back more memories for me. I love the crisp fall air, the first morning I step out my frontdoor and see my breath brings a little smile. My wife loves the warm weather of summer. If she could find a place that never gets below 75 degrees, she would move there. While I enjoy the warm summer nights on the deck with the barbecue going, there is nothing better in my mind than putting on a wool shirt and loading up my Labrador for the opening day of pheasant season.

The smell of gun oil on my Browning gives me a satisfaction that is hard to put into words. I search around the shop for my hunting vest, looking through the pockets to see what type of shells are there.

If they are low-base 8s, I remember last year's quail hunt down by Cache Creek. The excitement of a bursting covey as they scatter to new cover. The nod of the head given when you make a nice double. Those 8s may be from a late season dove hunt on a ranch that belongs to my friend's grandfather. I'm taken back to the kitchen table at the ranch, talking to my friends grandfather about life, cattle or his service in the Navy before and during and after WWII. My friend and I talk to both his grandparents for an hour or two over coffee, not because they let us hunt there, because they are good people and good company.

If I pull out a handful of high-base 6s, those must be from last year's pheasant season. My lab Jake has completed his metamorphosis from a bird dog to a gopher dog. The blame is mine. In my youth I hunted with my first lab, a yellow lab that I named Buddy. During my college years I spent many more days in the field than I do now. Buddy and I would hunt the ditches and barley fields around the County. Most days were unsuccessful if you base success on how many birds were taken on that particular day. When they are judged, as they should be, on the pleasure that comes from being in the field with a good dog, those days are priceless. I take no credit for the hunting ability of Buddy, he was great dog and we spent a lot of time together, time hunting. I do take all the blame for Jake, my current black lab, for being the out of shape, gopher killer that he is. When I came home today I found the garbage can knocked down, and the trash scattered all around. Jake the gopher killer strikes again.

November also brings the first of the holidays to us. Some people will say that Halloween starts the holiday season, I do not. I have never had family come from out of town to go trick-or-treating. Thanksgiving is possibly my favorite holiday. The Dallas Cowboys play in the afternoon, and the game is over just about the time the turkey is ready. The adults (myself included) sit in the kitchen and drink a fresh cup of coffee while the children play in the front room. We talk about politics and the plans for the ranch. We talk about the people we miss, those that could not make the trip from out of state this year.

For me, November is like the smooth surface of a lake. When you look at the surface you see your reflection, and your surroundings. But if you get a bit closer and look from a different angle, you look through the water's surface to what lies beneath.