During the Great Depression of the '30s, there lived at our house, the smartest dog in the world. He was called Old Spot. Not that he had spots, but that after he came to our house, there were spots on the floor.

Old spot was a bird dog, a pointer, and could hold a bird in point until you were ready to shoot, no matter how long it took. He really galvanized the birds, and they would not fly until he was ready for them to do so.

Once, when my folks were away from home, I looked out the window and saw that he was on point some distance from the house. Unfortunately, there were no shot gun shells around the house, so I called to Old Spot. He refused to leave the point. I tried several times to call Spot off the point, but he just would not leave. I decided to go to town and procure some shot gun shells. I quickly saddled up my horse and rode the three miles to town, bought a box of shells, then rode back to the pasture where Old Spot was standing.

The area where Old Spot was is a marshy place with a lot of weeds and grass. Old Spot was no longer on point, and was acting very strange. He seemed to be standing with his front foot firmly planted on the ground, and kept turning around in circles.

I feared he had been bitten by a cotton-mouth, and knew that if he had, he could not live. Not wanting to see him suffer a lot of pain, I prepared to shoot him. I loaded the shot gun, cocked the hammer and brought the gun to my shoulder.

Old Spot raised his foot, and out flew a quail. I shot it. Again he raised his foot and a quail flew out. I shot again. This continued until there were 13 quails in my louder.

It seems that Old Spot had all those quail in a craw-dead hole, and let them out one at a time in order for me to shoot!

We missed Old Spot when he died.

Oh, the way he died was quite spectacular.

There was an old farm some 10 miles from our house, that had been abandoned years before. It had grown up in brush and weeds. Since there were apple, pear and peach trees there, as well as persimmons, It was a place where game could always be found, and therefore a favorite place to hunt.

I rode a horse to the old farm and, of course, ask Old Spot to come along. We hunted together for an hour or so, and killed several quail. Then suddenly Old Spot was missing. This did not upset me since any dog will go on his own sometimes. I rode around looking for him a bit, then knowing that Spot knew his way home, I left the area. On arrival at home, I found that Old Spot had not returned.

I waited all night, and Spot did not come home. I determined that the next day I would go look for him. A heavy snow fell that night, and it was impossible to get to the old farm until spring. Old Spot did not return during the winter. I decided that perhaps someone had captured him and gave up the idea of ever seeing him again. It was a sad thought for all that knew him.

The following fall, one year after Old Spot disappeared, I went again to the old farm, just to look around and remember Old Spot. I rode to a large apple tree thinking that perhaps I could find a nice apple to snack on. There I found the most amazing thing that I have ever seen! There was the skeleton of Old Spot, still on point with his head slightly raised. I looked at the tree where he was pointing, and there on a limb was the skeleton of a quail!