I started huntin' when I was just six,
Put on my coat, and headed for the sticks.
I guess things were a little different then,
On that cold, snowy day way back when.
Me and Dad were birds of a feather,
Him and me a huntin' together.
My Daddy, he'd look for rabbit tracks,
I'd chase after and bring'm back.
Daddy told me to just bark like a dog,
Runnin' through the brush and hoppin' over logs.
Me and Dad were birds of a feather,
Him and me a huntin' together.
Me, I was worried I'd get lost in the woods,
But on cold days our sound carried good.
Daddy said that I just shouldn't worry,
If I sounded far away, he'd come in a hurry.
Me and Dad were birds of a feather,
Him and me a huntin' together.
Daddy, he carried an old double barrel, and
If the rabbits circled back, it was at their own peril.
Now that old gun wasn't made for glamour,
It had a home-made stock and an arc-welded hammer.
Daddy always gave me the fired paper shells,
Just because I liked the smell.
Now I'm an old man, and can't smell a thing,
But what fond thoughts those memories bring.
Me and Dad were birds of a feather,
Him and me a huntin' together.
Oh, him and me a huntin' together.
Song notes
The song "Birds of a Feather" is a true story about hunting rabbits with my father, back when I was a little boy in the late 1950s. I suspect I may have been younger than six at the time, but I used "six" in the song because it rhymes with "sticks."
Background
The same hunting story is told on pages 62 and 63 of my 2024 book "In the Land of Used to Be." Since we lived out in the country, our hunt began as soon as we stepped into the brushy woods adjoining our backyard. There were unrecovered logs strewn about our property from a logging operation. I was so little that I was worried about what I should do if my way was blocked by one of those logs while I was following a set of rabbit tracks. I asked my father about it, and he told me to just hop over any logs that were in my way, which I did.
This vintage home movie of five or six-year-old me also shows the woods that surrounded our yard — the woods where Dad and I hunted rabbits together. Although our dog "Lady" was terrific companion dog, I was the rabbit dog!
The shotgun
The following picture shows the old Springfield double-barreled shotgun mentioned in the song. It had a broken buttstock and a farm-repaired hammer when my grandfather Allen Korns gave it to my father Roy Dietle. My father carved out a crude but functional stock so he could hunt with the gun, which is marked with a February 10, 1914 patent date. The picture was taken after I had the hammers replaced, and after I replaced the crude homemade buttstock with a nicely figured walnut stock I made in my father's basement workshop.
Restored Springfield double-barreled shotgun with a new walnut stock I made. Originally, it my grandfather Allen Korns gave it to my father Roy Dietle with a broken stock and a farm-repaired hammer. The gun is marked with a February 10, 1914 patent date.
Reflections
Those early hunts with my dad are among my fondest memories of growing up in the country. We were truly birds of a feather — him patiently showing me the ways of the woods, and me doing my best to be his eager two-legged hunting dog. Writing this song has been a way to hold onto that simple bond and the feel of those cold, snowy mornings.
