Evening star., 1951-11-25
By George Kennedy

When the temperature dips to
freezing we who live steam heated
existence hardly notice the drop. In
going from place to place in a sedan
or coupe. our overcoats and the car
heater protect us. And If it gets real
cold the weather becomes a topic of
conversation as we trade complaints
on our discomfort in transit between
door and door.
But there's something to be said
for cold weather. The thousands
who pack football bowls are mostly
repeat customers. They complain
about how cold they were but they
go back again and again, not only
for the drama enacted below them.
but. I suspect, because they feel so
good when they get home. It is a
feeling of well-being that occurs with
or without the stimulation of alcohol.
1t comes from several hours of
breathing cold air, of giving the per-
sonal heating plant real job, Of
making the heart beat little strong
er to send the blood tingling to the
fingertips.
That Winter Feeling
1t is that feeling which probably
accounts for the popularity of skiing
in the areas to the north OF us. 1t
is a feeling that can be experienced
here with more exercise than one
would get in sliding down Mount
Washington.
All this is suggested by a recent
experience. Last Tuesday. when the
hunting season opened in Virginia.
I went out after quail for the first
time.
I went hunting with DR.. Robert F.
Caverlee, pastor of the big Baptist
church in Fredericksburg. "Dr. Bob"
as he is known to almost every one,
is a wonderful man. first met him
at the revival Of the annual dog mart
in Fredericksburg, an auction of
hunting dogs which he helped pro-
mote. There is a tradition that the
dog mart started long before the
Revolution with the first settlers
trading dogs with the Indians for
veniSon.
I will always remember DR.. Bob's
satisfaction with the Pomonkey tribe
from West Point. Va. which attends
the mart in costume. He said:
IF any one of them isn't a Baptist.
he's been tampered with"
Three Men, Three Dogs
We Started out early Tuesday aft
ernoon with DR.. Bobs two English,
setters-Prince, 10 years old. and
Nell, a youngster of g. DR.. Bob had
spent the morning at deer drive
in Caroline County. He didn't get
a deer, but two bucks had been killed
nearby, and he seemed to be feeling
vicarious satisfaction.
On the way out of town we picked
up Harry ingalls,, who delivers milk
for the local dairy. and his dog
Duchess. All three dogs rode quietly
: in the trunk of the sedan.
We drove to Spotsylvania Court
house, and on the way DR.. Bob talked
about the quail population like
census-taker. There were three
coveys on this farm, two on that.
He knew. He had been out with
his dogs (and no gum last month.
We turned left at the courthouse
and went to the dairy farm of Robert
Wagner. a 1.20o-acre establishment.
HAS any one been cunning in the
back field?" DR.. Bob asked a farm
hand at the gate. The answer was
no.
Good said DR.. Bob and we drove
in along the cattle lanes.
The back field was pasture along
side acres of thicket. The dogs were
let out of the trunk and promptly
went crazy. They ran about in circles.
always finishing up with nose to the
wind, a direction which happened to
be toward the thicket.
."They smell bids. all right" said