Wednesday, November 14, 2018

Old Dogs and New Beginnings ~Modern Wild Man~


Old Dogs and New Beginnings  

Our Hunting Dogs Become Intertwined With US

We respect our old friends and traditions, and start new.

Good Dogs Are Hard to Come By and We Cherish Them

An old cowboy friend shared with me some words of wisdom many years ago. Under a tobacco yellow stained white mustache, he explained to me his theory about dogs and horses. His cowboy wisdom was built on years of experience working and living on the high plains. "In life", he said "You only get one or two good dogs, and maybe as many good horses." Those words seemed to weigh heavy on my ears, and set me to wonder if my friend was right.Years have passed from the horseback afternoons with my cowboy friend, and I can't even say for sure where he is today, but I can vouch for his logic, at least in part.

Starting a New Chapter

In the spring of 2000 I was bound for a new adventure and journey. I accepted a new job in a new place, and everything in my life was about to change. Always a hunter and outdoor adventurer I was excited for what my new life had in store, the new areas to explore, and new hunts that awaited me. That same spring, a good friend and fellow outdoorsman buddy of mine had a new litter of chocolate labrador puppies that were ready for their new home. It worked out for me that spring that my new adventure included a new best friend. I selected a little roly poly male pup from the litter. His coat was the color of an October acorn, and he quickly grew into his oversized puppy paws. We spent that summer traipsing around the countryside, fishing for largemouth bass, and thinking about ducks in the fall. Duke was by my side everywhere I could take him, and fall couldn't come quick enough.


Duke and I on a September teal hunt.

Those days were some of our best days, chasing birds without concern for much else. Duke and I hunted pheasants in blizzards, quail in the sunshine, ducks along rivers and lakes, geese in fields, and every other type of bird hunting you can think of. There are stories of live bird retrieves from the field without a shot being fired, long water retrieves for winged gander geese, and amazing upland work in pheasant fields; that I could go on and on with from those seasons. We spent winter weekends on the road sleeping in the truck or in small town hotels in between hunting days. Many times invitations to new or premium hunting property was contingent on bringing Duke, and he never disappointed. Hunting was our passion, a passion we shared, and that bond became an immeasurable tie that bound us together.

The Best Hunting Partner

Bird dogs are the best hunting partner. They are always ready for a hunting adventure, and are always the last one to quit. A bird dog never wants to sleep in, or stay home because it's too cold. Bird dogs don't get in trouble with their wives because they hunted last weekend, they are always ready to go. A bird dog doesn't mind sitting in freezing mud and water at the marsh just to watch ducks fly by out of range in the morning and then head off to look for quail in a snowy field that afternoon. I've never seen a good dog quit on a hunt due to a lack of birds, or head back to the truck early because his feet hurt. Duke and I hunted hard those years, the miles and the memories are priceless.

Duke and I on a pheasant hunt with a great friend.
Seasons pass, and years go by. The same was true for Duke and I, and our hunts together. Duke's muzzle turned grey, and his hips and knees began to give out before his heart to hunt would. We began to hunt warm fair weather days, not because Duke complained about the cold, but because it was obvious that the cold caused him pain. The last few seasons, Duke spent his fall and winter seasons resting on a foam bed in our mudroom. During his long afternoon naps, I like to think he was dreaming of a rooster pheasant flush from a snowy thicket, or mallards working our decoys and the retrieve. The sight of a shotgun, or decoys in the pickup still made his tail wag, but his tired body had seen its last hunt. In November of 2015, as migrating flocks of mallards made their way south, and hunters were taking to the fields in pursuit of game birds, Duke went to rest along a hillside bordered by a brushy fence row where we used to hunt quail. There is a simple marker where he is laid to rest, it reads " Duke, My Good 1". 




Santa Brought a Puppy!

It wasn't long until I began to get an itch for a gun dog, and some itches have to be scratched. My life was very different now, married with two young children at home. A hunting dog would be have to be a family dog first. Hunting weekends and road trips are more complicated and involved then they used to be, and schedules are not as flexible as they once were. In December of 2015 Santa Claus brought to our family a perfect little female yellow lab puppy, complete with a red bow around her neck. In an instant we had a family dog with a hunting instinct.  

Little Wild Man and Littlest Wild Man with their Christmas puppy!

There is a sense of betrayal when a new puppy comes into your life after the passing of an old friend. You can't replace an old dog no more than you can forget the great times you had together; at the same time there is a sense of obligation to raise and hunt with a new four legged friend. I like to think that Duke would be happy to know that my hunting days aren't over, and that when I take to the field and hear the wings of a game bird, that our hunts together are a part of that.

Meg quickly grew into a fine, strong hunter. She is gentler, and softer in demeanor than Duke was, and perfectly suited to our young family. Her gentleness with her beloved family in no means diminishes her drive for the hunt. Fierce as an upland hunter, and just as steady in the pursuit of waterfowl, her desire to hunt and please her hunters is a joy. Dogs with a passion not only for the game they pursue, but for their hunter and the hunt are a blessing to hunt over, and Meg is one of those types of dogs.

Meg with a handful of quail on the perfect Saturday!

Every Home Should Have a Dog

Gun dogs bring a certain amount of recklessness, ruckus, and a passion for the hunt to our lives. The partnership and kinship is undeniable, and the seasons we get to share with them are cherished and fleeting. A good dog only has so many Novembers, and by the time the last sunset falls on the last January day of season, we hold onto those hunts just as hard as we look forward to the hunts to come. I pray for the ability to hunt with my heart as hard as the dogs I have been fortunate enough to hunt with have.

Meg and I on the last day of the 2018 goose season.

Meg's fourth season is in full swing. There are hunts in the works, and a twinkle in her eye everytime she sees me with a shotgun. Little Wild Man is joining us on more and more hunts, and the promise for Littlest Wild Man to tag along is firm. For me at least, a bird hunt is more about the dog than any bird, shotgun, or any other detail. I find a true connection from my center to the heart of a sporting dog and that is what draws me back time after time.

Meg and Little Wild Man on the 2018 duck opener with a limit!






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2 comments:

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