Bill Shaddle and his funny orange hat.
I just learned that Bill Shaddle passed away on August 23rd.
Bill acquired his first two Jack Russells -- a male and a female -- as pets bought from a local farmer in Pennsylvania. The Internet being what it is, he found the Jack Russell Terrier Club of America, and he eventually found the terrierman.com web site and this blog as well.
A deer-hunting man, Bill was interested in what a working terrier might be able to do, and he bought a copy of American Working Terriers, followed the advice, acquired some basic equipment, met me briefly at JRTCA Nationals in October (the only show I go to), and on November 2, 2006, he took his little female Jack Russell off lead and outside a fence for the first time in her life.
Dot did not run off, and though nothing much was found on those first few outings in the field, Bill and his dog did find some old holes. Over the next few months, the dog learned to sniff and shoulder into den pipes a little bit, and I got a few emails as a result.
"Those holes sure are tight," Bill said. "You weren't kidding about needing a little dog!"
I encouraged him to keep walking in forest and field, explained what a fox sette looked like (it was too late for groundhog by then), advised a little bit about likely habitat for late-winter quarry (a raccoon or possum was always possible), and told him that if he kept taking his dog out, that Spring was sure to be his friend.
In late March of 2007, Bill and Dot found their first groundhog to ground, and never was a man more thrilled -- or prouder of his dog -- than Bill was of Dot!
There were more digs, of course, and over time Dot and Bill became a small team.
A smart man can learn a lot from even a stupid dog, even if the opposite is not always the case.
Bill eventually met Greg D. in New Jersey, and he learned a little more from him and gained a little confidence as well. Greg was destined to pass away himself within the year.
Bill also met Beth K., my old digging pal who had moved back to Pennsylvania from New York. He would be in safe hands with Beth!
Bill got out a lot more, and he started banking multiple groundhogs on his weekend exploits, and began posting short posts about his exploits on a few internet bulletin boards, always sending me a note along as well.
He was having fun, and he was "passing it on" to others as I always encourage other diggers to do.
Earlier this year, Bill wrote a short article for a British working terrier bulletin board entitled "A Yanks First Year Working Terriers," recounting his digging adventures in 2007.
In mid-August, Bill wrote me a note asking me about a new straight-dish shovel he thought might give him some small advantage when digging in tough ground.
I knew where he was coming from; in the heat of August you wish you had a few sticks of dynamite to loosen things up a bit. Surely there is an easier way?
But with men, of course, our motivations are never quite that simple, are they? We love our toys, and we like to experiment, and no doubt Bill was just interested in scratching a common itch along those lines. He was going to write AM Leonard, the farm tool company, to see if they had a short-handled version of the shovel he fancied.
I do not know if Bill ever ordered that new shovel; my last email from him was posted just a few days before he died.
He had, of course, been out hunting with Dot in the August heat.
He had come came home earlier than planned complaining of chest pains. Before his wife could call the doctor, Bill went down in the kitchen -- a heart attack, the same as what had taken his grandfather, his father, and his uncle before him.
A hat tip to Bill. He loved his family, loved the dogs, loved wildlife and respected Mother Nature. He often posted comments on this blog, signing himself "bs" which I always took as a bit of false advertising, as they rarely were.
I suppose we will all pass on someday, but those of us left behind can always wish that it was quite a bit later, eh?
That said, Bill died quick, and he was not in pain, and he was with the family he loved after spending time doing something he loved.
If there is a better way to go, I do not know what it is.
See you on the other side, Bill. And no, you can keep the straight-necked shovel. I want the one with a little dish in it.
Now unclip the dog's, and let's see if we can find something to ground in this New Country. And my, what a lot of dogs there are here!.
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