Alarms, Tolls And Jingles

For nearly two decades, I’ve wrestled out a living as a beat cop.

- Jon Osborn

Before dawn, the clock’s insistent alarm rouses me and sends me to wailing sirens, angry shouts and crashing metal. After 12 hours of cacophony in a patrol car, what I desire most is peace and quiet. No chance of that, though, especially during summer – the season when crime rates and pandemonium reach a fever pitch. Come October, however, the weather cools, society settles down, and another sound awakens something deep inside me.

Long before honking horns and buzzing alarms, bells signaled the arrival of ships and summoned hopeful souls to churches. Prior to speeding cars and rushing trains, bells announced the passage of buggies and sleighs. The pastoral tones of bells also marked the presence of sportsmen and dogs amid the aspens and scrub oak. While modern wing shooters might prefer digital collars, one bell has a story no beeper can rival.

After serving on a sleigh in a previous life, this bell spent a purgatory amid the musty confines of an old shoebox. These days, though, it swings freely around my setter’s neck, and its timeless tones echo throughout our secret coverts each fall.

Similar to classic fabrics like flannel and wool, bells honor tradition in ways synthetic fibers never can. Mellowed by age like fine bourbon, the finish on this particular bell glows with a golden luster, and its tones ring bright and clear. Perhaps even greater than its music, though, its sweet silence declares, “Setter on point!”