The pride exhibited by old dogs when they've made a special retrieve is one of the real pleasures of hunting with a dog.

When Kurt Weill wrote the haunting melody for "September Song" and Maxwell Anderson penned the equally poignant lyrics, neither had hunters in mind. However, Anderson's lyrics strike a responsive chord when one day it dawns on you that both you and the dog are getting on in years. The knowledge that the dog is approaching double digits and the Social Security Administration is depositing a monthly check in your bank account make it clear that "one hasn't got time for the waiting game."

There's something that's satisfying about hunting with an old dog, particularly when you are also more or less an old dog yourself. There's none of the upstart puppy enthusiasm that tires you out just watching. Nor does an old dog exasperate you to the point of yelling "For Godsakes, dog, settle down!"

Bob, my aging Chesapeake, knows there is no work for him while we put out decoys and set up blinds so he sits beside my hunting gear and waits. There is no flibbertigibbet racing about knocking over decoys and making a general nuisance of himself. Instead, he's a calm, steady presence whose posture says, "When you're ready I'm ready."

When the two of us do crawl into the haybale blind, he settles himself in a comfortable position to serve as my personal DEW (Distant Early Warning) Line. Except in this case, the "enemy bombers" yodel, have brown spots on their white fronts and fly in massive if sloppy formations that an old Navy pilot friend of mine once scornfully described as "same day, same sky" flying.

Specklebelly geese are becoming more difficult to hunt. Most hunters are now seeing decoy-shy birds that don't respond well to the call.

Bob's radar skills are something to behold, honed by years of goose hunting. He spots geese long before I do, and as long as I don't forget to put in my contact lenses in the morning -- something that is not beyond the realm of possibility considering my level of competence at 0400 hrs -- I still have 20/20 vision. But his goose detection is much better than mine even without the benefit of corrective lenses.

One of the nice things about old dogs is that they've seen you miss easy shots, probably on several occasions, and it no longer upsets them as it did when they were young.

Instead of giving you that "Howinhell could you have possibly missed that shot?" look that's de rigueur when the dog is three or four and curls up on the floor of the blind with a "let me know if you ever hit one" look, an old dog understands that your hand/eye coordination isn't what it once was.

Instead of throwing a hissy fit over your shotgunning ineptitude, old dogs give you a patient look. Sometimes, if you're really upset with yourself as I was this year when I flat out blew a shot at a specklebelly hanging 10 feet up and 20 yards out from my blind with gear down, an old dog will put his head on your knee and instead of reproach in his eyes, there's only compassion. If there's anything I can't stand, it's pity from the dog!

However, if you miss too many easy shots in a row, you will get a "for crying out loud, get some focus!" look as even an old dog's forbearance is not unlimited.