by Bonny Bourquin
I have a buddy ; we are true best friends, Who I love so much , I hope his life never ends. HIS a.k.c. name is Wingmasters Guide, To see him point is a bird hunters pride. To his friends and family , he is known as Jake, You better believe that he is no fake. For I've seen hunters come and sen hunters go, But Jake and I always steal the show. We spend our October days among the fields of golden rod, To have a buddy like this is by the grace of God. I have a friend that calls him bird monster cause they can't hide, After all, I'm the wingmaster, and he is my guide. There have been times when i have missed, When he looks at me, I can tell he's pissed. He soon forgets because he don't care, For he knows the next one will fall from the air. The pheasants are so pretty; it's such a shame, But they taste so well, it's part of the game. So many hunting seasons have gone by, I never had a partner like this guy. He works so hard; his bell jingles like chimes, Were a team cause he knows where i am at all times. It makes us grieve when it's time to leave, When the setting sun touches the ground, Bubber and i are homeward bound, Only to rest up for another day, When he and i can go out and play. 5/2/2003 we miss you so much. pappa doesn't even fill like hunting anymore.he says it just not the same. we will see you again, love you jessie and heidi always, love grandma